


The Flower & The Serpent

by AnMorrighan



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Affairs, Alcohol, Angst, Bandits & Outlaws, Bank Robbery, Canon Compliant, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gangs, Hurt/Comfort, Irish Language, Irish Republicanism, Love, Loyalty, Mutual Pining, Orphans, Past Relationship(s), Period-Typical Sexism, Pre-Video Game: Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018), Protective Arthur Morgan, Sex, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, Smut, TB or not TB that is the question, Trust, Unrequited Love, Violence, Western, Young John Marston
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2020-10-17 19:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 39
Words: 254,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20626385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnMorrighan/pseuds/AnMorrighan
Summary: In the early 1890s, the Van der Linde Gang were truly at their finest. Experts at stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, they've made a name for themselves across the West. Two of their newest recruits, a pair of rebellious Irish siblings with an unknown past, slowly find their footing and settle into their new lives as outlaws.And yet, as they grow older, threats from all sides begin to appear. A strained relationship with Colm O'Driscoll spells disaster for the gang, and no matter how far they roam across America, the world continues to change around them. If they want to survive, difficult choices must be made.No one is as they seem and the impending arrival of law and order threatens to tear the siblings, and everything they hold dear, apart. Is it too late for anyone to find a happy ending?





	1. Orphans from the East

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been obsessing over the Red Dead series since December and decided to finally bite the bullet and write a fic about my favourite cowboys and gals. I haven't written anything in a while because inspiration sorta left me and life be mental sometimes. Two other MCU fics of mine have been paused midway through their respective stories as well. I'm aware there are a small handful of people still curious about them, so I would say for the moment they're on hiatus but will definitely be finished when my inspiration for them eventually returns (which it bloody well will!).
> 
> That being said, this bad boy is the result of smashing heads together with a friend of mine, who is also a writer and contributing just as much to the narrative and characters. Though he isn't on AO3, this is essentially a mutual creation of ours and we hope y'all enjoy some western shenanigans with some Irish patriotism sprinkled on top. This is my first attempt at anything Red Dead related, so hopefully it isn't a steaming pile of trash! Any thoughts at all, comments are always welcome.  
Feel free to hit me up on Tumblr: unofferable-fic
> 
> I also like to incorporate playlists into my work because music is great okay  
Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Red Dead Redemption 2 Trailer Theme” — L’Orchestra Cinematique, “Blessed Are The Peacemakers” — Woody Jackson, “Old Dog” — The Scratch

“What the _hell_ is this?” 

Arthur Morgan had found himself in many sticky situations in his short life, but standing with his revolver pointed at a pair of kids was definitely a new one.

Well, they _were_ pointing their own guns right back at him, so it wasn’t exactly a situation that required basic manners.

“Looks like they got to our take first,” Dutch replied in disbelief from his spot between the two parties. Their agitated mounts continuously shuffled on their hooves, neighing restlessly as each rider did their best to focus on the newest threat before them. “Hold on a minute there, son—”

“Who are you lot?” the young boy demanded, with his revolver currently pointed directly at Dutch. Behind him, a girl had just finished shoving the much sought after contents of the stagecoach lockbox into a large bag. In her other hand was a gun pointed directly between Arthur’s eyes. 

“You best drop that gun, you little shit!” a very wound up John Marston ordered. “Before I put a bullet in your head!”

The girl swiftly pointed her gun towards John, the threat apparently cutting deep. Despite her slight frame and obvious youth, her voice sounded confident from beneath her bandana. “Try it, greasy! I’ll take great pleasure in riddlin’ your fuck-ugly face!”

Of course, John was never one for staying calm. “You ain’t in charge here, little missy!”

“_Marston!”_ Arthur cut in, seeing things spiralling quickly if they didn’t do something.His furrowed brow was already covered in sweat beneath his hat. “Shut your damn mouth and take it easy!”

“No one needs to die here,” Hosea added, his voice surprisingly calm despite their current predicament. “We all need to relax.”

Dutch agreed and tried to take control of the situation as he always did. “My good friend here is right. How about lowerin’ your guns, fellers, and we can talk this out.”

The boy’s eyes flared on his mostly hidden face. “How about you get your monkeys to lower theirs first!”

While the insult barely fazed Arthur, John was a little more sensitive. “Shut your damn mouth!”

Well Jesus, this couldn’t possibly end well…

* * *

** _8th June, 1890, outside Waukesha, Wisconsin_ **

_Today is the day. Dutch wants me and Marston to scout out the road before the stagecoach comes through later this evening. It’ll be the kid’s first real try at a robbery like this, so Dutch thinks getting familiar with the area might help settle his nerves a little… I was against it at first, but he said we need the extra man if we’re going to deal with the Pinkerton escort afterwards. _

_As long as he keeps a cool head he should be fine, but he’s still not one for taking orders very well, even if he’s been with us for five years. Still young, dumb as shit, and eager to prove himself. I’m hoping he learns to listen though — Lord knows I’d hate to see anything happen to him._

* * *

“Grub’s up, folks! Grub’s up!” 

Arthur closed over his journal at Pearson’s call. Glancing up to see the cook placing a steaming pot of stew over the fire, he returned the book to its spot on his bedside table. Morning had swiftly arrived at the camp, and most of the inhabitants were up and about already, attending to the many chores that needed doing. It was a clear and sunny day, with only a few fluffy white clouds littering the blue sky. The heat was somewhat intense despite the early hour and brought a light sheen of sweat to his forehead. This camp had been their home for some weeks now, and Arthur really didn’t mind. He quite liked it out here — he always preferred the open plains to dense cities. The cosy field where they now resided was situated on the bank of a river outside a small city called Waukesha. The surrounding lowlands were flat, open, and easy to traverse, but the gang was safely hidden from the nearest trail by a thick group of green trees. Though the region was home to some of Wisconsin’s largest cities, most of it was made up of farmland, so it was relatively easy for them to remain here without being noticed. He really hoped they could stay in these vast fields for some time. He could get used to travelling across the stretching green pastures atop Boadicea, and the first breath of fresh air he inhaled every morning bought a genuine smile to his face.

Arthur’s eyes flitted over the lightly dancing trees on the camp’s outskirts before looking to what had originally grabbed his attention. Though Pearson’s food was in dire need of some seasoning, his stomach rumbled at the prospects of a hot meal. He got to his feet, wiping some of his unruly hair out of his eyes, and went to get his share.

“Mornin’, Mr Morgan,” Susan greeted him as she grabbed a cup of coffee.

“Miss Grimshaw,” he replied with a nod, helping himself to a large bowl of stew.“Mornin’.”

She took a seat on one of the nearby tables and urged him to join her.

With a shrug, he took a seat and set his bowl down. “Coffee good?”

“As always,” she said. “As long as it calms my nerves it’ll do.”

“What do you have to be nervous about?” he asked before taking a mouthful of stew and ignoring the mild bland taste.

“I seem to be more concerned with this stagecoach than you are!”

“You concerned about the coach, or the fact Marston will be near the coach?”

“He can be a headstrong little _brat_ at times, but I’d rather not see him with a hole in his head.”

Miss Grimshaw shook her head in exasperation, but the gesture only brought a smirk to Arthur’s lips. She could be quite a harsh woman, especially when people lounged around and didn’t do their part in keeping everything running smoothly. Despite being the current flame of the ever flirtatious Dutch van der Linde, Susan Grimshaw refused to sit idly by and act like the lady of the manor. She was very much involved in ensuring that the camp remained a functioning unit. She was perfect for the role, probably because she could be positively terrifying if you didn’t help out.

“I’ll admit,” Arthur began, swallowing some food. “I wasn’t exactly happy ’bout the idea at first, but Dutch has faith in the little brat. And besides, he’s got me, Dutch, _and_ Hosea lookin’ out for him. He’ll be fine as long as he does what we say.”

Susan eyed him carefully, but nodded, seemingly happy with his words. “As long as you do look out for him, Mr Morgan. You know how he can be — he reminds me a lot of you at that age.”

“Hey now! Don’t go comparin’ me to that fool—” 

Miss Grimshaw cut across him with ease. “It is the reason you two get on so well, what with bein’ such _like-minded_ individuals…”

Arthur finished his breakfast while she reeled off the many reasons why he and John were one and the same. Sometimes it as best just to keep his mouth shut, and this seemed like one such moment. His saving grace came when Dutch called him over to his tent.

“Mornin’, Dutch.”

“And a fine morning it is, son,” he replied with gusto and set down the book he had been reading. He offered Arthur a cigarette before taking one for himself. He lit the two, then continued on. “Hosea and Bessie took young John into town to get some supplies for tonight.”

“How’s he seem?” Arthur asked and took a drag.

“John? Seems fine to me. Maybe a little… let’s say, _eager_, to get goin’.”

“Still got faith in him?”

“O’course,” Dutch said, his voice firm. “We all gotta start somewhere, Arthur, you know that. He’s seventeen now, so it ain’t a bad age to get goin’. Heck, you did it even younger.”

He knew Dutch was right — there was no point letting John fester around camp doing nothing. They definitely didn’t need a second Uncle around the place, and Marston seemed keen to please… Or maybe he was just passionate about shooting something, who knew? It seemed that Dutch did though, and if there was someone whose opinion mattered, it was Dutch. 

Arthur kept busy around the camp doing numerous chores while he waited for the trio to return. Chopping firewood and helping Pearson prepare their dinner for later at least meant that time flew by for him. He was playing fetch with Copper when John finally returned with Hosea and Bessie in tow. While the older couple went to check in with Dutch, Arthur and John mounted their horses and, with Copper running along side them, headed out down the road to the spot where they intended to rob the stagecoach.

“Why are we robbin’ it at this spot exactly?” Marston asked, scanning his eyes over the strip of dirt road.

“It’s the best distance outside town where a robbery won’t attract any attention,” Arthur explained, gently patting Boadicea. “The stagecoach is carryin’ bank transfers into Milwaukee, so you can bet that robbin’ it close to town would bring a whole heap of law on us. See that turn there?” He pointed off in the distance, tipping the brim of his hat to keep the shimmering sunlight out of his eyes. “It’s gonna come down that road there and loop this way. We’ll be waitin’ on this here ridge and hidden in some of the trees so that they don’t spot us.”

“What about them?” the younger boy asked. “They got any guns?”

“Four in total, if Hosea’s intel is right. So we should be able to take ’em out with the four of us. They’ll have a backup escort comin’ in from there, though.” He pointed up the road in the opposite direction. “’The bank in Milwaukee will be sendin’ out some of their own guns to meet the stagecoach just a little ways up the road, considerin’ this lil strip is so deserted. So we’re expectin’ maybe four more guns to show, which is why Dutch wants you involved. Once we rob the coach and the extra men arrive, there’ll be enough of us to take ’em out if needs be.” 

“Sounds dangerous,” John mused, hanging on his every word.

Arthur let out a chuckle and proceeded to light himself a cigarette. “What, you scared, boy?”

“No! I ain’t scared, just bein’ honest about things.”

“You’ll do just fine,” the older man reassured him and offered him a cigarette. “You just need’a keep a cool head, and do as Dutch says. That’s how we make sure things go smoothly.” He paused to take a drag. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about if you do that.”

John nodded and puffed away to calm his nerves. “Thanks. I’m just glad that you’ll have my back, brother.”

“That’s what family is for,” Arthur responded with a small grin. He watched Copper as the dog sniffed along the roadside. “You’ll be fine.”

The two of them remained there for a few moments more as Arthur went over their plan of action in more detail. Though he knew how John could be, he was glad to see that he was eager to get to work. He hoped this wouldn’t make him over excited when the time came, but he thought back on what Dutch had said — he needed to put faith in his brother to do the job right. Thankfully, Marston had yet to give him a reason to doubt him so aggressively.

They returned to camp and waited out the rest of the day going over their plan with Hosea and Dutch. They had everything planned perfectly — it had to be, otherwise they could find themselves in a sticky situation once the Pinkerton escort arrived. Regardless, spirits were high at dinner time when Arthur, Dutch, Hosea, and young John mounted up and headed out to rob the stagecoach. They road through the fields in the late evening sun, avoiding the main road so that they wouldn’t be spotted ahead of time. The familiar buzz that came with performing robberies and the like was already stirring within Arthur’s chest. It was always risky business, but a part of him loved the thrill and feeling of power that came with these takes. Knowing that the money would be given to those who needed it most also gave him a nice sense of self-worth — it was one of the only things in his life that made him feel that way. He wasn’t a good man by any means, but he still tried to do some small bit of good where he could.

“And here we are,” Dutch announced from atop his horse as the group arrived at the waiting spot. He glanced at his pocket watch and nodded. “Right on time. Does everyone remember the plan?”

“O’course,” Arthur confirmed.

“Good. Now, cover your faces; we won’t be waitin’ too long for the stage to swing by.”

Arthur quickly pulled his bandana up to cover his mouth and nose and double-checked that his guns were fully loaded and ready to be used if things took a turn.

“Remember, gentlemen,” Dutch continued on. “No killing unless absolutely necessary.”

“Best of luck, everyone,” Hosea added.

Then the group descended into silence and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Arthur’s fingers flexed on his reins. He could see John beginning to get anxious. Something definitely wasn’t right.

The only noise they could hear was the light breeze on the leaves above their heads, and the persistent ticking of Dutch’s pocket watch as he checked the time again.

“Somethin’ ain’t right,” Hosea whispered, mimicking Arthur’s own concerns. “They should have come through here by now.”

“Maybe you got the times wrong?” John suggested. “Or the place?”

Arthur shook his head. “That ain’t it. We heard from multiple people and all of them said it would come through _this_ road at _this_ time.”

“So what do we do then?”

“Well,” Dutch sighed, somewhat vexed with the development. He pulled down his bandana and turned to the rest of them. “We can’t stay here and wait for it to possibly arrive. I suggest we head up road and see do we come across it. But we stay out of sight and appear as inconspicuous as we can until I say otherwise.”

Hosea nodded and uncovered his face. “I agree. It’s definitely a better idea than waitin’ here and hopin’ for the best.”

“In that case, follow me, gentlemen.”

Arthur followed as the group made their way through the fields adjacent to the strip of road. They kept an eye out, but met no one along the way, and their anxiety only grew with each passing second. This was some take according to the locals, so missing it would be a great loss to the gang. 

“Up ahead!” Dutch suddenly announced in a hushed tone.

Arthur looked up to see a stagecoach in the distance, stationary on the road. “Why’s it stopped?”

“Because,” Dutch growled out. “It’s bein’ robbed.”

“It’s _what?”_

“Somebody beat us to it! C’mon!”

Right well, this certainly wasn’t an outcome for which the gang was prepared. Arthurhastily followed Dutch’s lead as their horses galloped up to the precious stage. He strained his eyes to get a look at who had intercepted the take before they even had a chance. The closer he got, the more information became apparent to him — two figures crowded the rear of the coach, one of whom was emptying its contents into a bag. The other stood by guarding her every move. The drivers and guards were nowhere to be found. At first, Arthur just assumed that the figures were small because of their position in the distance, but the closer he got, the more he realised that this was no normal robbery.

“It’s a pair of _kids!”_ John exclaimed, disgust evident in his tone. “We got beaten to it by some damn kids!”

“_Kids?”_ Arthur repeated in disbelief.

With the noise of their arrival, the pair of young thieves looked up from their prize to see four men thundering towards them on horseback. They were clothed in dirty outfits with bandanas hiding their identities. A quick once over told Arthur that it was boy and a girl who had managed to rob an obscene amount of money from the stage. How in the hell had two kids manage _that?_

Perhaps riding directly to them hadn’t been the best idea, as the pair were quick to point their guns at the gang.

“Hold on there!” Dutch called, grinding his mount to a halt and holding up his hands. The trio behind him followed suit, but Arthur and John instead chose to aim a weapon at each of them just in case.

“What the _hell_ is this?” Arthur asked, completely dumbfounded with the situation they found themselves in.

_“Cé hiad na leaids sin?_ _”_ the girl asked her companion.

“The _fuck_ you say?” John demanded, already losing his temper.

“Who are you lot?” the boy demanded, his eyes very skeptical already and completely unfazed by this strange man’s apparent aggression.

And now here they were — facing off against a pair of kids on a quiet dirt road. Sometimes Arthur really got tired of this shit.

“How about you get your monkeys to lower theirs first!”

“Take it easy, son,” Dutch answered calmly with his hands still raised. “We mean you no harm.”

“Your friends with the guns there don’t give us much comfort,” the girl replied in a thick Irish accent. “Now do as he said and get them to lower their weapons!”

“If you give me your word that you won’t shoot ’em, I will.”

“Is that a good idea?” Arthur asked, not exactly enjoying pointing his gun at a kid, but also not liking the idea of being defenceless.

“Trust me, Arthur. You and John, put the guns away.”

Arthur released a heavy sigh, but listened to his mentor and returned his gun to its holster. “Goddammit…”

John obliged, though he was far more hesitant to listen. A stern look from Hosea got the point across.

“Now,” Dutch announced. “We did as you asked. How about you meet us halfway and lower yours?”

The pair exchanged a knowing look before slowly lowering their revolvers, but not putting them away. The boy called out to them again. “Now, as I was sayin’, who are you lot and what do you want?” 

“No harm in bein’ honest. We were the ones plannin’ on gettin’ that coach, but it seems like you beat us to it.”

“Not our problem,” the girl replied. “We got to it first, so you’s aren’t gettin’ any of it.”

Dutch shook his head. “We ain’t gonna steal it from you. You two earned it, fair and square. I don’t quite know how you managed it, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t impressed.”

“We’re used to bumping into rival gangs every now and then,” Hosea added with a goodnatured chuckle. “But not so used to seein’ kids out on jobs.”

“Yeah, well,” the girl grumbled. “You gotta get by somehow when you’ve nothin’ else.”

“Of course!” Dutch agreed. “We ain’t here to judge.”

As they spoke, Arthur briefly turned his head as the sound of horses grabbed his attention. He looked back down the road from where they came, and suddenly remembered an important detail of the plan. “Awh, shit. We got company!”

“Wait, what?” the boy asked, looking baffled. “What’s goin’ on?”

“The Pinkertons!” Hosea confirmed just as the escort appeared at the end of the trail. “How many we got, Arthur?”

“I see six comin’ in!” he confirmed, looking through his binoculars at the patrol heading down the road.

“That’s more than expected!” John commented in dismay.

“Pinkertons?” the young girl repeated. “What Pinkertons?”

“An escort sent to meet the stagecoach,” Dutch elaborated. “I assume by your confused expressions that you two didn’t know about that part.”

“Jaysus Christ,” the boy muttered and drew a carbine from his back. “No, we didn’t.”

“Well then I think your best odds are to come with us, or you can stay here and try to fight off six guns.”

The kids shared a look again before the girl spoke first in a language that Arthur didn’t understand. _“Cad a dhéanfaimid anois?”_

The boy shook his and gave her hand a squeeze. “_Níl an dara rogha againn. _Let’s get outta here.”

“You got horses?”

“No,” the girl explained. “We came on foot.”

“Well then, you hop up here with me, son, and your partner can jump on with my friend, Mr Morgan, there.”

The boy took Dutch’s outstretched hand and hauled himself on to the back of the horse, while Arthur offered the girl a hand and helped to pull her up behind him. “Hold on tight now, you hear?”

“I’ll be grand,” she replied, though he could hear the hint of fear in her voice. “Just move.”

Just as shouts and some shots rang out from the arriving escort, the gang sped off and through a nearby bunch of trees in an effort to lose their pursuers. Arthur felt the young girl hold on to his shoulders tightly as he pushed Boadicea as hard as she could go. The noise of the horses thundering along and jumping over bushes and fences was one that he knew well, and one that was always accompanied by a small amount of worry and excitement. He could hear John and Hosea urging their mounts forwards, realising how risky it was being out in the open like this. The head start thankfully gave them a decent advantage over the Pinkertons as they spend through the Wisconsin fields. Unfortunately, despite the distance between them and the men chasing them, the Pinkertons persisted and were hard to lose.

“They’re still on us,” the girl shouted from behind him. “You’s need to do somethin’!”

“I know,” Arthur answered, breathing in deep. “Just lemme think.”

“What about those trees?” William called, pointing to the outskirts of a bunch of greenery just in front of them.

Right on queue, bullets whizzed over their heads, some a mile off and others unnervingly close.

Arthur let out a huff and ducked his head down as one very nearly got him. “Keep your head down, girl! We’re sittin’ ducks out in the open like this!”

“We can lose them in there!” Dutch confirmed. “We just need to make it past the tree line.”

Behind them, the rate of gunfire began to increase the closer they got to the safety of the trees. The escort clearly knew that they’d lose them amidst the thick foliage. Thankfully, the trees drew closer and closer and their bullets managed to miss their targets as they shifted side to side to throw them off. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as they breached the tree line and slowed to navigate between the brush. He felt the girl’s grip on his frame ease up a little with their new cover and he gave her a swift glance to see how she was holding up.

Dutch called out orders to once more grab their attention. “Everyone, veer left and follow me!”

They manoeuvred carefully between the tall trees and bushes, keeping a careful eye out behind them incase the escort appeared on their tail once more. Thankfully, as they weaved to and fro between the shrubbery, the Pinkertons weren’t seen again. When they finally broke through the edge of the forest and reappeared in an open field, the sun had just about set on the distance and the threat seemed to have been lost. 

The horses were eased to a halt and Arthur placed a loving pat on trusty Boadicea’s neck. “You did good, girl.”

“Everyone alright?” Hosea asked the group. The responses he received were unanimously positive though out of breath.

“That certainly could’ve gone worse,” the boy mused as he jumped from The Count.Seeing no danger around, he pulled his bandana back down to reveal his youthful face. Arthur was surprised to see just how young he was — he looked to be about the same age as he was when he first joined the gang. Despite this, he looked like he was sleeping rough, with a dirty face and a fresh red scar that ran over his right brow and down his cheek. “But at least nobody got shot.”

Arthur noticed the girl dismounting to join her companion and she too pulled off her mask. She seemed just as young as him and showed signs of dirt and older scars. Immediately she went to the boy’s side and gave him a once over. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile and let out a huff as he got his breath back. “I’m grand. Are you?”

“Yeah. Thankfully these lads are good riders.”

She wiped her brow and reached back to tie her messy brown hair out of her face as Dutch addressed them. “I thought you two did pretty good out there, considerin’ you managed that stage all on your own.”

“Yeah, bar the squad that we weren’t even remotely prepared for showin’ up,” the girl replied with a pained smile. She looked up at Dutch and gave him a thankful nod. “We definitely would’a been captured or worse if it wasn’t for you lot.”

“Outlaws gotta stick together in times like these,” he said calmly. “We’re livin’ in different times, and we’re just tryin’ to survive.”

The boy nodded in agreement and then shared a look with the girl. “We appreciate the help Mister, uh…”

“Van der Linde,” Dutch replied and reached out to shake their hands. “Dutch van der Linde. These are my friends, Hosea Matthews, Arthur Morgan, and young John Marston.”

“I’m Maebh Hennigan,” the girl replied. “And this is my brother, William.”

“A pleasure. Can I ask, is it just the two of you? No parents or family around?”

Maebh flinched slightly at the question. “Uh, yeah. Our parents died a while back and the rest of our family is back in Ireland. We have nothin’, so we have to rob sometimes to get by. But that doesn’t matter, we owe you’s a lot for this. I suppose it's only fair that we give you’s a bit of the money from the stage.”

Dutch grinned at her suggestion and Arthur recognised that look almost immediately. He could already see his leader’s mind coming up with his next plan of action. Based on everything that happened today, he thought he had an idea of what it might be. “That’s a very kind offer, Miss Hennigan, but I actually have an offer for you.”

Maebh and William met each others gaze before the latter sceptically asked. “_You_ have an offer for _us?”_

“As I already said, outlaws have to stick together if we want to get by out here. It’s the best way to ensure that we survive, that we _live_.”

Dutch was descending into a classic rousing speech with which Arthur and the group were quite familiar. He had heard it many times himself when he needed a bit of self belief in what they were doing. The most notable time he heard it was when he first met Dutch and Hosea as an unruly fifteen year old with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. Yes, this was certainly an encounter with which he had some personal experience.

Atop The Count, Dutch stretched out his arms in a welcoming gesture and grinned from ear to ear. “If we want to live like Americans, then we got to have each others backs, no matter how tough or worrisome things may be. You need a family, you need stability, you need to know that you are safe. But I think that today is a sign of what you both could have.” He paused and Maebh and William hung on every word. “My offer to you two, is how’d you like to join my gang?”


	2. Enter, Pursued by Pháistí

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maebh and William make a decision with regards Dutch's offer to have them join his gang, while the latter makes his anti-government ideologies clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter two, hitting your screens with a solid 6,000 words... I got a bit carried away, oopsie. Thank you to those who bookmarked/subbed for updates! The nice reception to the first chapter has been great to see :) Hopefully you's enjoy the second instalment! Feel free to throw in any feedback or comments because they make me feel all warm and fuzzy. That, and I'm curious to hear any thoughts, no matter how chill/rambling they might be!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Wisconsin” — Bon Iver, “Wandering” — Gustavo Santaolalla, “It Will Come Back” — Hozier

This was not the expected outcome that Maebh had prepared herself for when planning the robbery. To her, there were only two outcomes really — get away with the money or die trying. The secret third option to join a stranger’s gang was a surprise, but perhaps a welcome one. How she found herself and her brother standing in a field with four other outlaws was beyond her…

“You want two kids to join your gang?” she asked Dutch van der Linde with her brow raised.

The well-dressed man let out a chuckle. “Why, Arthur here joined when he was a teenager, and John joined when he was only twelve years old. Regardless of your age, you both know how to handle yourselves, and you can only learn and improve as you get older. These boys are a testament to that fact.”

Maebh gave said men a once over. Arthur, clearly the older of the pair, definitely gave the impression of a brooding tough guy. He didn’t seem like someone with whom you’d want to get into a bar fight. His large hands presumably packed a punch, and judging by the scars on his chin and nose and the glint in his eye, he had no problem putting himself in the thick of it if needs be. That being said, she couldn’t get a really good look at him with that hat on his head. And yet, there was something oddly tranquil and thoughtful about him, much like the calm before a storm.

John, by his appearance, general mannerisms, and inability to enter a stressful situation without shouting or cursing, was clearly younger. She pegged that he was closer in age to her and William than Arthur, but he was no less moody. Their original interaction was enough to know that he was a hotheaded youngster with something to prove to his gang members. When it came to his physical appearance, his youthful face was somewhat hidden behind greasy black locks of hair but he seemed to wear none of the battle wounds that Arthur did with his years of experience.

“My dear,” Dutch continued on. “This offer is not only beneficial for us, but by the sounds of things, you and your brother don’t have many places to go or many options to choose from. Now, what we are offerin’ is not only a home and a team to look out for you, but a chance to live free from the influence of civilisation. An opportunity to improve your body and mind, and help those less fortunate while you’re at it. All you gotta do is earn your keep — do chores, help out at camp, and partake in the odd robbery or con.”

There was a brief silence that hung on the air, each cowboy awaiting some sort of response. She could feel William’s eyes on her, and she wanted a chance to hear what he thought before making any promises. 

“If it’s alright with you,” she began, looking at the leader. “I think we want to chat about it first before makin’ any decisions.” 

He nodded, though not unkindly. He slowly dismounted from his horse and signalled for his gang members to follow suit. “O’course! Take a moment if you need it, and I’ll chat with my friends while you do.”

She thanked him before turning to her brother, who gave her a nod off to the side and muttered. “_Tar anseo._”

She followed him happily, sticking close as he strode away from the gang, leaving the two groups a respectful distance apart. Thinking it would be wise to do so, the pair of them spoke in their native tongue while standing closely together.

“_Cad a cheapann tú foai seo?”_ she asked without hesitation. _What’re you thinkin’?_

He shrugged, responding in Irish. “I think we’re in a similar situation to the stagecoach from earlier. Either we go it alone at a big disadvantage or we try to team up with them lot, I guess.”

“They are offerin’ hot food and beds,” she added. “And I’d kill for somethin’ like that.”

“Not to mention safety.” He paused uncertainly and threw the men a glance. “After what we did, this might be a good idea. We’re still wanted ’round here so I’m thinkin’ safety in numbers might be our best bet.”

“You’re right about that anyway. But what about _them_; how do you feel ’bout them?”

“I think they’re grand for the most part. The young fella seems a bit thick but he could be worse. Your man Dutch seems like the good sort — he had an opportunity to rob us and didn’t. He could’ve left us on the roadside but he didn’t. He’s got some… interestin’ ideologies, but I can’t say I don’t agree with them. The government’s done us no favours.” He lowered his voice and leaned in closer, his eyes looking a little worrisome in the dimming light. “They’re gonna catch us eventually if it’s just me and you, Maebh. This might be our chance to get away from it all.”

“I think you’re right,” she agreed. “I suppose as Dutch said, it’s better if outlaws stick together. Plus, if we aren’t feelin’ them, we can always leave.”

“Good point.” William let out a sigh, clapped his hands together, and returned to speaking in English. “Right, sure fuck it. We’d like to take you up on that offer, Mr Van der Linde.”

Dutch let out a laugh and gave Hosea a look. “Now what I tell ya? These are some smart kids we have found, gentlemen. They will make _fine_ additions! It is good to have you onboard.”

“Thanks for havin’ us, Mister,” Maebh replied gratefully. “Now, where to exactly?”

“Back to your new camp, o’course. John, Arthur, would you be so kind as to offer these two a spot on your horses.” As John let out a grumble, Dutch gave him a look. “Hey now, son, make friends. They’re certainly closer in age to you than we are.”

“How old are you two, actually?” Arthur asked as he once more offered Maebh a hand on to the back ofhis horse.

“I’m sixteen,” she replied, sat herself behind him, and hung on to his broad shoulders. She threw a nod in her brother’s direction as John hoisted him up. “And he’s fifteen.”

“You really do pick ’em up young, Dutch,” Hosea chuckled as the four of them set off in a canter. “But you’re right — they can certainly handle themselves.”

“That they can, and I’m sure they too wish to live free in this here fine land, away from all that civilisation. Young or old, their ideals are in the right place.”

“How old were you when you joined?” Maebh asked Arthur as the others settled into some conversation about where the camp was located.

He hesitated, probably realising she was addressing him, and cleared his throat. “Fifteen or fourteen, there abouts anyways…”

“So basically our age, then.”

“I guess so.”

The group descended into casual conversation as they rode to the Van der Linde gang campsite. Along the journey, the sun had set on the horizon and plunged the land into darkness save for the light of the full moon. Maebh watched intently as the horses were steered on to a small dirt path and through a group of dense trees. As they breached the other side, she first set eyes on the camp. Their new home.

It looked quite small, but she didn’t mind that. If anything, she preferred it to something larger or overcrowded. The camp was illuminated in the darkness by some lamps and a campfire where a few people sat with drinks in their hands. A number of tents stood grouped together, some larger and more ostentatious that others, in the centre of which stood a larger wagon that contained a number of provisions and food. Under one of its canopies she spotted a large man chopping away at cuts of meat. A few other wagons were set up not far away — one joined to a bed and canopy seemed to contain ammunition, while another standing on its own housed a few medical supplies. Off to the side in a patch of grass, horses stood grazing in the warm night air. At the sight of the group’s return, the gang members stood up from the fire and came to greet them. Maebh spotted two women and another older man, excluding the one who remained by the food wagon.

“Hey! Welcome back, fellers!” the older man announced, waving a bottle of beer in his hand as he jaunted over to them. “Did you get the money?”

“More importantly,” one of the women began, throwing the man a frown. “Is everyone alright?”

“To answer your question, my dear, Bessie,” Hosea began as he dismounted his horse. “Everyone is fine. And to answer _your_ question, Uncle, no we did not.”

The trio looked stumped. “You didn’t?”

“No.” Hosea pointed to William and Maebh. “They did.”

For the first time that night, the other members of the Van der Linde gang laid eyes on the siblings, having not even noticed their presence. Maebh chose to give them a simple nod without speaking a word. She got off the horse as Arthur did and stood by her younger brother’s side. Arthur and John lead the four horses to the rest of their animals before rejoining the group.

Trying to show William some reassurance, she gently bumped her shoulder against his as Dutch made the grand introduction. “My friends, I’m pleased to introduce you to the newest and currently the youngest members of the Van der Linde gang. Meet Maebh and William Hennigan, Ireland’s finest thieves.”

“You two robbed the stagecoach?” the other unnamed woman asked, her lips parted with curiosity.

“You four were beaten to the take by two _kids?”_ the older man — Uncle — asked before bursting out into a fit of semi-drunken laughter. “You gotta be kiddin’ me! Fearsome outlaws from the West, beaten to the gold by kids from the East!”

“Yes, Uncle,” Dutch agreed. “We were beaten to it by some ‘kids’, but these kids managed to rob a guarded stagecoach without any assistance, so I wouldn’t go makin’ assumptions about their abilities.”

“Oh, trust me, I ain’t. I just get a good ol’ chuckle knowin’ what you stumbled across when you expected a box of money. I wish I could see the look on your faces.”

“I’m sure, I’m sure. Now, kids, introductions for you two. These two fine ladies are Susan Grimshaw and Bessie Matthews, and as you heard this… _gentleman_ is Uncle.”

“Is he your uncle?” William asked, eying these new people up and down.

“Ah, no. He ain’t no one’s uncle here, but we call him that regardless.”

“How many feral children do you plan on bringin’ home, Mr Van der Linde?” the woman Dutch introduced as Susan Grimshaw asked, her hands propped on her hips. While the others seems amused with their arrival, she appeared more skeptical, much like Maebh and William were themselves.

“Only the ones that can handle themselves,” Dutch replied deviously before leaning down and kissing her cheek. “And I promise you, these two can.”

“But can they cook? Clean? Help run things ’round here? They look like can barely keepthemselves clean.”

“They’ve been livin’ rough lately, as far as I know.”

“We’ve no problem with chores, miss,” Maebh replied surely. “Cookin’ and cleanin’ aren’t a problem.”

“Good. Well the first thing you can do is clean yourselves up. I’ll fetch you some soap and clean towels, and then you can head on down stream a bit.”

As Miss Grimshaw left to get supplies, Dutch placed a hand on both of their shoulders. “While you two wash up, I’ll have a tent and fresh bedding set up for you. Mr Pearson should have some leftovers from dinner as well.”

Maebh and her brother expressed genuine thanks to the lot of them as Miss Grimshaw returned with their bathing supplies. She asked as to whether they had any clean clothes, but Maebh assured her that they had some spare ones in their bags. The gang left them to it, so the pair walked down the river until they were mostly out of sight. They took turns washing the grime and sweat of the day off their bodies, one in the river while the other stood on the bank and kept watch. After all, they still didn’t entirely trust these new people they just met today.

“What d’you think we’ll have to do ’bout the money?” William asked from his spot on the bank, his back to her while he fiddled with his hunting knife.

Maebh threw a glance at him as she scrubbed her hair. “From the stage?”

“Yeah. D’ya think we should give them some of it? We’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for them lads.”

“I mean you’re not wrong. We should probably give them some of it. Half, maybe? And then you and me split the other half?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” he agreed. “Are you done yet? I’m starvin’ after all that carry on.”

“Yeah, just gis a sec.”

Once she finished up, William threw her a towel and waited for her to dry herself and get changed into fresh clothes. They washed the dirty ones on the river’s edge together before returning to camp feeling a bit better after the messy day they’d had. They could feel some eyes on them as they returned, Maebh linking her arm into the crook of his while he carried their belongings. Upon seeing them approach, Miss Grimshaw called them over. She brought them to a decent tent set up not too far from what she assumed was Dutch’s. Inside, two bedrolls lay on the ground, with an oil lamp plopped nearby to give them some light. She was also surprised to see they had been gifted a little wooden chest to share.

“We set you two up here beside Mr Morgan and Mr Marston,” Miss Grimshaw explained. “I figured you might prefer to bunk together for the moment. You also have a chest for any belongin’s you might need to store.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Maebh said with a polite smile. “We appreciate this, honestly.”

“Well you can repay us by earnin’ your keep. Be up at dawn to help with the chores — there’s washin’ to be done, and Mr Pearson could do with some fresh meats brought to his wagon — if either of you are good with horses, they could do with some groomin’ and feedin’.”

William nodded, noting her very serious tone. Her eyes, decorated with dark makeup,were full of fury hidden underneath an authoritative demeanour. Her messy bun only added to her confident appearance as the apparent arbiter. He got the feeling that she kept this place alive and she _knew_ she did. She definitely wasn’t one for messing around, _clearly_. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Any questions, just shout.” Without saying much else, Miss Grimshaw left them to their new lodgings.

“Well,” William began, giving his sister’s arm a squeeze. “Which side do you want, right or left?”

“Oh shut it,” Maebh laughed and gave him a soft shove. “It’s all the same to me.”

“Just makin’ sure,” he said with a grin and stowed their belongings in the chest as she hung their washed clothes above the tent to dry out. William took a seat on one of the bedrolls and gently ran his hand over the material. “I have’ta say, these feel much comfier than our ones.”

“At least that’s one plus to this new arrangement.” She took a seat next to him and sat akimbo. She let her gaze wander over the camp, feeling surprisingly comfortable in this new environment.

“What’re you thinkin’?” William asked, eying her curiously. “I can tell your mind is goin’ a mile a minute.”

“Just thinkin’ that I’m actually alright with all this,” she answered honestly. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m still wary of these people ’cause we don’t know ’em, but they don’t give me any bad vibes. They seem grand.”

“I understand, but always be on your toes, yeah?”

With a nod she let her head rest on his shoulder. “Of course. We’re in this together as always.” 

While sitting in their new living space, Maebh glanced over to see a figure approaching them. She recognised it to be Mr Morgan, who carefully carried three bowls of food in his arms. He greeted them with a nod. “Thought you two could do with some food. It ain’t much — Pearson really don’t got the hang of usin’ seasonin’, but it’s better than nothin’.”

“Thanks, Mr Morgan,” she replied and took one of the bowls and spoons he offered. Inside was steaming hot beef stew. “That’s kind of you.”

“Call me Arthur,” he replied. “Ain’t no need for formalities with me. Mind if I join you?”

They signalled for him to take a seat on the ground, which he happily accepted. Considering he had appeared so gruff before, Maebh was somewhat surprised to see him making an effort to give them some company. Perhaps he knew the feeling from his own experiences as a kid and wished to ease their transition a little. Though she knew little of him, he seemed like a useful man to have on your side.

“You likin’ the new set up?” he asked, as he swallowed some stew.

“It’s grand yeah,” she replied as she too munched away. “And we appreciate the new belongin’s and all that.”

“We look out for each other in this gang,” he explained. “So don’t mention it. A word of advice though — do whatever Miss Grimshaw asks of you. You don’t wanna see her mean side.”

“We got that impression,” William added, enjoying his hot meal. “And I don’t fancy her givin’ me a smack. She looks like she packs a punch.”

“Oh, she definitely does, take my word for it.”

Seeing this as a chance to get some more information about their new gang mates, Maebh chose to see what Arthur could offer. “Is she Dutch’s wife?”

He shook his head. “Naw, but they’ve been together a while. He’s in charge of things for sure, but she likes to help organise and keep everyone in check.”

She glanced at the campfire where she spotted Hosea and Bessie sitting with John and Uncle. Only now had she gotten a chance to really study her. She could tell that they were together, just by their mannerisms alone, and had been so for a long time. Her shoulder-length hair was beginning to grey, and her face held the telltale signs of age with slight crinkles in the corners of her eyes. She had to admit, they made a good looking couple. “What about Bessie?”

“She’s Hosea’s wife,” Arthur explained. “They’ve been together a while and she’s a good woman. She wasn’t raised an outlaw like most of us, but she goes where Hosea goes. She helps out ’round camp too, mostly with the cleanin’ and breakin’ up fights. She’s clever, with an equally intelligent husband. Hosea is Dutch’s righthand man. Been runnin’ with him since the mid 70s. That man can talk his way into, or out of, just about anythin’. They’re quite a pair.” Arthur eat another spoonful of somewhat bland stew before continuing on his explanation of the group. “And John is still a kid. He’s only seventeen, but he thinks he knows everythin’. He’s an orphan too, but he’s been runnin’ with us for five years and he’s already the golden boy. Dutch taught him a lot of what he knows, so I guess he’s like a father to him. He’s a good kid though and some shot with a pistol.

“Pearson, the guy over by the food wagon, he’s the camp cook. Used to be a sailor so get ready to hear all about his adventures at sea… Shame they couldn’t teach him about herbs while on deck. And Uncle, well… Uncle is _Uncle_.”

Maebh blinked at him. “He’s what now?”

“Honestly?” Arthur asked, briefly meeting her eyes. “He barely does shit ’round here bar drinkin’ and laughin’. He’s good for findin’ leads sometimes, I guess. Only reason Dutch ain’t kicked him out yet is ’cause he finds him so entertainin’.”

“What a colourful bunch,”William added as he quickly finished his meal.

“You two’ll fit right in,” Arthur offered. “Trust in Dutch and do what he wants. His word is usually the best one to go by.”

Mr Morgan remained with them for a little while longer before they decided to turn in for the night. He bid them a goodnight and headed back to his own tent. Maebh watched him sit on his bed and write into some sort of book for the rest of the evening before she felt exhaustion overcome her and the need for sleep was too much. She and William fell asleep to the crackling of a fire and the hushed laughter of their new apparent family.

* * *

** _9th June, 1890, outside Waukesha, Wisconsin_ **

_We picked up some new members after the stagecoach robbery. Two kids beat us to the take, and Dutch saw fit to bring them into the fold. Can’t say that I blame him for it, as they certainly seem like they can hold themselves no problem. A brother and sister, two apparent orphans from Ireland... Attached at the hip by the looks of things. Maebh is the eldest and William the youngest, though they seem fairly confident despite their youth. I’m sure John is just glad he’s no longer the youngest around._

_It is a little unusual to have new recruits, but I trust Dutch with his decision to take them in. They could certainly be valuable to us all, and I can’t argue with that. Regardless, he hopes that the take will be split in half. One half goes to the gang, while the other goes to the kids to do with what they will. Dutch plans on showing them exactly what we do with a take this big and has asked me to join him for the long ride. Hopefully I can get a better idea of these two along the way, and hopefully it’ll settle whatever uncertainties they surely have about us._

* * *

The following morning, Maebh awoke at dawn. A gentle shake on the shoulder pulled her from sleep, and she opened her eyes to find William sitting up next to her.

“It’s dawn,” he explained with a yawn. “We should get up and movin’ before that Grimshaw woman skins us both.”

“Right,” she grumbled. “Okay, I’m up.”

It took her a couple of minutes to get moving and comfortable in her new surroundings. Once they were dressed, they looked around camp to see a that Miss Grimshaw was also getting up, as well as Hosea and Bessie.

“What jobs were there again?” she asked her brother. “Cleanin’? Feedin’ the horses?”

“And getting fresh food for Pearson too,” William added. “I can tend to the horses and get them fed and watered.”

She nodded and ran her eyes over the nearby Fox River. “Probably a good idea considerin’ how much you like horses. I’ll go with the fishin’ then. Pretty sure I can get some smallmouth or walleye outta there.”

“After that we should have a word with Dutch ’bout the money too.”

“Grand, yeah. I’ll see you in a bit. Shout if you need me.”

While William went off to attend to the gang’s horses, Maebh grabbed her fishing rodand some bait out of the chest and went a short distance downstream. Finding a quiet spot overlooking the river that was still within the camp’s line of vision, she cast her rod into the water and waited. There was a light rain coming down that morning, which thankfully helped with her chances of catching some fish. As time slowly passed, she managed to catch a number of smallmouth bass to give to the camp cook. They put up a fight as always but she had years of experience to help with reeling them in. Once she managed to pull six decently sized bass from the water, she packed up and returned to camp. On her way, she passed by Susan Grimshaw as she grabbed some morning coffee, the older woman eying her curiously — she couldn’t tell whether it was with approval or uncertainty. Pressing onwards, Maebh carried her fresh catches over to Pearson’s wagon.

“Heard you needed some fresh food,” she announced as she reached him.

The man was hunched over a large pot with a thoughtful look on his chubby face. He looked confused for a moment before noticing the fish she was carrying, upon which, a grin formed beneath his thick moustache. “Ah, you must be the other new recruit I haven’t met! I already met your brother over there.” He offered her his hand. “Simon Pearson, camp cook.”

She accepted and shook it vigorously. “Maebh Hennigan, supplier of fish.”

“I can see that! Bring ’em here.”

She set them down on his table as he began to check them over. “Hopefully this is enough.”

“It’s more than enough. These are some decent smallmouth. You must be a fan of fishin’ by the looks of things.”

“It was one of my hobbies growin’ up. Need help skinnin’ and guttin’ ’em?”

He shrugged. “Sure, kid. Why not? Two pair o’hands is better than one.”

As Maebh attended to helping Pearson with prepping the fish, the rest of the gang continued about its business around her. Mr Morgan walked by her and gave her a tip of his hat in greeting. She sent him a wave and watched as he began cutting some firewood. She noticed Uncle dozing in the sun while Miss Grimshaw cleaned some of the camp’s bedclothes. Bessie and Hosea were repairing the side of one of the wagons, hammering wooden planks into position with each others help. William seemed to be in his element with the horses, grooming the mane of Arthur’s mount, Boadicea. She also spotted a dog roaming about the camp, staying close to Pearson’s wagon as they prepared the food. As she gutted her third fish and cooed at the dog, she noticed John and Dutch talking quietly nearby. Though focusing on her work, she carefully watched them every now and then. Dutch handed the younger man a cup of coffee before pushing him in her direction.

“Uh, hey,” Marston announced himself awkwardly as he reached her.

“Mornin’,” she replied and cut off the tail of the bass with a whack. “Marston, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, John actually. You, uh, want some coffee?”

She eyed the steaming cup he offered her. Choosing to humour him, she quickly finished with the fish and washed her hands in a nearby bucket. “Sure, I’ll take that off you. Thanks.”

He handed her the cup and then took a step back. “No problem.” He paused and threw a glance at Dutch who stood nearby smoking a thick cigar. “Sorry if I seemed kinda… rude yesterday. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, just watchin’ my back.”

“It’s no bother,” she assured him and took a sip of her drink. Without missing a beat, she shrugged. “Sorry for callin’ you fuck-ugly.”

He scoffed at her reply, but couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips. “Not gonna apologise for threatenin’ to shoot me in my fuck-ugly face?”

“I’m not sure. You _were_ bein’ kinda rude, Mr Marston.”

John shook his head, but seemed to take her teasing lightly. As he began to walk away, he added. “Dutch wants you and William at his tent when you get your chores done. Enjoy the coffee, Miss Hennigan.”

Left to it, Maebh continued on with her work until Pearson said she could finish up. By that point, William had finished up with the horses and had carried sacks of flour to the wagon and refilled its a pails of water. Together, they took a short lunch break and then proceeded towards Dutch’s tent together. He was inside with Susan, reading a novel while she worked on some stitching.

“Mr Van der Linde,” Maebh greeted him. “Miss Grimshaw.”

“Ah,” Dutch cheered, looking up from his book. “Well if it isn’t the new recruits. Good work this mornin’, kids. Looks like you two did some decent work.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“If you don’t me bein’ so nosey, but what did your parents do?”

“They were farmers, so we’re used to gettin’ up at the crack of dawn.”

“I thought it might’a been somethin’ like that. They taught you most everythin’ you know?”

“Pretty much all of it, yeah.”

“Then I would say they did a fine job lookin’ at you two. Now, I wanted to speak to you about that the money from the stagecoach, if you wouldn’t mind. What exactly are your plans with it?”

Maebh looked to her brother who tilted his head and answered. “Actually, we wanted t’have a chat with you before we didn’t anythin’ with it. Considerin’ we probably wouldn’t’ve made it outta there alive without you’s, we wanted to offer you half the take.”

A smile slowly stretched across Dutch’s lips. “My, my. That is a generous offer from you two; one that I was hopin’ you would make.”

William narrowed his eyes. “You were?”

“Why yes, son. Ya see, the gang uses a similar method with our on robberies — one half goes directly into the gang fund, while the other is split between those who did the job. But we don’t just hoard all of the gang funds to ourselves, and I want to show you what we’ll do with half the stagecoach money. Would you both accompany myself and Mr Morgan on a ride?”

“Where to exactly?”

The older man got to his feet and stepped out from his tent. “To a town north-west of here called Black River Falls; well known for its mining and lumber industries. It’ll take the day to get there, so its best we head out before noon. Arthur!” Maebh looked over to the nearby tent where Arthur resided, scribbling in that book again. 

Once he heard his name being called, he came to meet them. “We headin’ out?”

“That we are, do me a favour and fetch the kids two of the spare horses.”

“Sure.” Without argument, Arthur did as his boss asked.

“Well,” Dutch placed his hands on his hips and grinned at the two orphans. “I’m assumin’ you two know how to ride?”

* * *

Though she’d had been living in Wisconsin for years, Maebh had never been to Black River Falls. It was some distance from camp, so they packed an overnight bag at Dutch’s suggestion. They rode out and took breaks for food and sleep that night, considering they and the horses needed a good rest. Their time around the campfire was usually spent with Dutch retelling old stories about his gang. Taking Arthur’s presence into account, he told Maebh and William about how he stumbled across the former as an unruly teenager and quickly recruited him. She was relieved that neither of them pressed her about where she came from. It was easier to not have to reject their curiosity. Whenever she and William decided to divulge about their past would only happen when they felt comfortable and ready to trust these strangers from the West. The one thing Dutch didn’t talk about was the reason why they were heading to this small Midwestern town. Apparently, all would be explained once they got there. Arthur was no more helpful than his mentor.

When they awoke the next morning, they continued on their journey and arrived at Black River Falls in the middle of the afternoon. From what she had heard of the town, it had been a thriving and homely settlement, but there was something strangely eery about the place now that she was there. As they trotted through its muddy streets, she noticed that the residents seemed somewhat dreary and bleak rather than appearing like a flourishing community. They safely hitched their horses outside a saloon and slowly headed indoors.

“Are you seein’ this?” William asked her in a hushed tone, slyly nodding to the people she had been intrigued by outside.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Doesn’t seem like a flourishin’ town to me.”

Before they could exchange any further words, Dutch told them to get a table off to the corner of the room. As the older cowboys went to the bar and made orders for the group, Maebh and William sat down and got a good look at the patrons in the saloon. It was surprising to see quite a fair amount of people in a saloon at this time of day.

“Right,” William sighed. “This is a bit weird now.”

“Agreed. Shouldn’t all these people be at work, or somethin’? They can’t all be outlaws or just passin’ through.”

Under the dim lighting of the saloon, Williams features were sharper than usual. “Why would Dutch ask us to come here of all places? It’s bloody depressin’.”

Dutch and Arthur soon returned with food and drinks in hand. Not exactly expecting much, Maebh wasn’t surprised to see a bowl of oatmeal was the only thing on the menu at the moment. She was somewhat amazed that they were allowed on the premises given their age, but the patrons seemed to care very little. She supposed at least they weren’t drinking any beer, so nothing overtly illegal was going down.

“So,” Maebh began slowly, having eaten half of her meal. “What exactly is the deal with this place? It’s kinda…”

“_Miserable?”_ William finished for her, uncaring of how blunt he sounded.

Arthur snorted at that. “Well, you ain’t wrong, kid.”

Dutch set down his whiskey and answered calmly. “I wanted you two to see this place with your own eyes before I told you what we were doin' here. This town was a thrivin’ place not that long ago, but since then the lumber industries and the mines have shut down and shipped out. For most of the people livin’ here, that was their only source of employment. So now, they ain’t got no jobs and, with no one earnin’ any money, the banks are beginnin’ to fail too, and it won’t be long before they do. The people are positively petrified of the impendin’ winter later this year and there’s talks of starvation if they can’t afford food. They’re stuck out here with no help from any government or Pinkertons — they don’t give a shit about these poor unfortunates, but we do.” He proceeded to sneakily point at the saloon’s patrons. “_This_ is where most of the gang’s half of the stagecoach money will go. These people are in for it for years to come, and we ain’t gonna sit back and watch as the government don’t do nothin’ for ’em. If we did nothin’, then we might as well bury ’em ourselves. Now that you’re in the gang, this is the kinda good you can help bring to the people who need it.”

Without another word, Dutch got to his feet with a bag over his shoulder, inside which was most of the gang’s share of the robbery. He quickly passed off half to Arthur and the pair of them went around the room, handing wads of cash to the stupefied customers. Maebh looked on in hidden admiration as Dutch conversed with the townsfolk, seemingly enjoying their thanks and words of delight. Arthur, though more reserved and polite, waved off their gratitude with a simple nod and urged them to spend the funds on food for their families. Maebh looked to her brother, who usually showed little emotion on his face for others to see, but even he was taken aback by this move.

As Dutch and Arthur moved outside to meet more of the locals, the siblings followed, eager to see the reactions that were sure to come. She observed carefully as Dutch began to address the small crowd that had gathered with words of a lawless America and ‘the ill that civilisation has brought unto the hard-working people that keeps this nation alive’. It was a sight to see, and although he clearly relished the attention, his actions were good and selfless. It was a large sum of money, one that the gang could have used to its advantage, but they would rather give it to those who lost their jobs and feared for their survival.

“The only way we can live in these United States, my friends,” Dutch continued, passing money into the sooty hands of Black River Falls grateful locals. “Is by supportin’ each other. Civilisation would rather have us as dogs lickin’ at their shitty boots. Ain’t no man I’m gonna worship, save for God.”

“Did you think this was goin’ to happen?” she asked her brother from their spot outside the crowd.

“No,” he admitted. “But I have to admit, it’s a noble move.”

“And I think it gives us a better idea of who the Van der Linde Boys are.”

“It surely does.” William smirked before turning his attention from Dutch to her. “I think we might’ve made a good decision for once, Maebh.”

Giving him a curious look, she eyed their new leader who had the crowd in the palm of his hand while Arthur continued to hand out money. 

The grand speech continued, spoken now with even more vigour. “So we are returnin’ this money to the pockets of those who need it. Consider it a generous donation from the government of this land, taken without their permission by outlaws who have already experienced hardships at their hands.” At that, Dutch met her gaze and gave her a nod. “This is how you live in America. We are livin’ and we are survivin’, because it’s the only thing we can do while they threaten our very existence. This is how we will live, or we are gonna die tryin’.”

“Yeah,” Maebh said, agreeing with William’s point. “I think we’ll be alright with these lads.”


	3. Full of Sound and Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years pass since Maebh and William join the Van der Linde Gang, and Dutch and co plan to hit the local bank in Winterset, Iowa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay. Myself and my friend knocked our heads together to solidify the plot a little more and we're pretty happy with where it's going. Honestly, a lot of it is jokes at John's expense... We love him really. Hopefully you guys enjoy it too!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Too Old to Die Young” — Brother Dege, “We” — Bon Iver, “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” — Dropkick Murphys, “Inverness” — Jed Kurzel

** _23rd August, 1893, outside Winterset, Iowa_ **

_Another city, another bank to hit. Dutch is happy with our plan to take the bank in Winterset and chose a good team to work with. As well as the boss himself, he wants all experienced hands on deck, so John, Maebh, William, Hosea, and I will be attending. He asked that Karen come too so she can act as a distraction before we make our entrance. She proved she can handle herself in the last town, so we’re happy to have her along. Considering the Callander brothers are newer to how things work around here, he wants them to guard the camp._

_With the plan to plant some of us in the bank beforehand, things seem good to go. As long as we get in and out with the money and keep casualties to a minimum — or preferably none at all — then we can call it a job well done._

* * * 

“Marston, I’ve a question for ye.”

“What is it, Hennigan?”

Maebh looked up from reading her book beside the campfire. She raised a brow at William and John who sat beside her, the latter whittling away at a piece of wood while the former stared at him curiously.

“What happened to your voice to make it permanently _raspy?_” William enquired, scratching his beard thoughtfully. “Did Arthur punch you mad hard in the throat or somethin’ and you’ve sounded like this ever since?”

John frowned, his hands halting their movements. “I’ll have you know it’s hereditary.”

“Yeah? Who was your da? A furnace?”

Maebh casually added. “A Scottish furnace, actually.”

“My voice ain’t _that_ raspy.”

William let out a snort. “Ah, c’mon now! You’re only twenty and you sound like you’re pushin’ on fifty.”

“No, I don’t.” Maebh tried to keep her mouth shut, but the look of amusement on her face caught the older man’s attention. “What the hell you smirkin’ at?”

She scoffed “Nothin’! Don’t bring me into your little tiff.”

John threw his hands up in the air and let out a huff. “Then maybe get your brother to stop botherin’ me.”

With a shake of her head, she shut her book and got to her feet. “He’s his own man and I’m not gonna tell him what to do.”

She left them to it, just about managing to hide her laughter as William continued to do Marston’s head in.

It had been three years since she and her brother found themselves in a spot while robbing a stagecoach, and thankfully being saved by Dutch van der Linde and his gang. Though they had both been skeptical of the group at first, seeing Dutch and Hosea focusing on helping those forgotten and in need across the country had helped to ease their worries. Now, they were well settled into their rolls and formed bonds with their fellow outlaws. Dutch had been the supportive leader they pegged him for — encouraging them to keep reading and ‘broadening their minds’, thus ensuring that they were made aware of what was happening in the country as governments, cities, and civilisation took over. While it was a nomadic life, it was better than what they had before. Together, they robbed multiple banks across the country, and gave vast amounts of wealth to the forgotten people who needed it. 

The gang itself had acquired new tag-alongs and members since they first joined. Another pair of siblings, Mac and Davey Callander, had recently been recruited by Dutch after he encountered them partaking in a massive street brawl. They were a proper vicious pair of bastards by the sounds of the stories they told, but they bothered Maebh very little. Though they were particularly violent, they seemed to be able to control these tendencies towards their fellow gang members. Another newer member was a woman named Karen Jones. Bursting with confidence and personality, Arthur and Maebh were the ones to encounter the proficient scam artist in a local saloon. She did an impressive job of drinking the pair of them under the table that day and stealing their money when they blacked out. When they later tracked her down, they came with an offer rather than a loaded firearm. Last but not least, the ever flamboyant and mischievous Josiah Trewlany appeared randomly at camp a few weeks after Maebh and William originally joined. Apparently, he had been a member of the gang for a while, but rarely stayed at camp. He was constantly going to and fro, but always seemed to have a lead; the very reason Dutch still welcomed him upon each return.

Returning to her tent, Maebh set herself down on her bedding and continued reading. It was one of William’s plays — _Othello_ — he finished it himself a few days ago and asked if she would read it so that he could hear what she thought. He was always one for long discussions about stories whenever they were travelling long distances for work, or while sitting in their tent at night. Having been familiar with Shakespeare’s work already because of his mild obsession with the bard, she was happy enough to read another of his tales. Frankly, she read any book that William hopefully plopped into her lap.

“Whatcha readin’?”

Engrossed in the story, she hadn’t noticed someone approaching. Tearing her eyes away from Iago’s monologue, she was met with Arthur standing in front of her. “More Shakespeare.”

“You really like his work, huh?” he asked, taking the book as she offered it to him.

“He’s more William’s favourite than mine, but I gotta give him credit where it’s due, it’s a good read.”

He flicked through the pages carefully. “Sure. Hope I ain’t disturbin’ your good readin’?”

She waved him off. “Nah. I’ve been at it for most of the mornin’ anyway so I should probably call it a day.”

He nodded and handed her back the play, resting his hands on his belt buckle. “If you ain’t up to much, I was gonna go do some huntin’ if you wanna join? You can ask your brother too if he ain’t busy.”

“Yeah.” She offered him a small smile. “That sounds fun actually. I could do with gettin’ outta camp for a bit.”

“Good, good. Grab your bow and I’ll fetch William before he makes Marston’s head explode.”

“Might want’a move quick, then.”

With a smile, Arthur left to do just that and Maebh gathered her hunting supplies in a bag. She hurried over to the hitching post where William’s mount, Dantès, was currently stationed and waited for the others. She offered him a sugar cube from her pocket and stroked his mane, admiring the animal with genuine fondness. She was surprised to see not only Arthur and William approaching, but also John following closely behind them.

“Marston wanted to join us,” Arthur explained as he readied Boadicea. “So don’t be surprised if him and your brother decide to turn a huntin’ trip into a competition.”

“No thanks,” William countered, patting his horse’s neck. “I’m just here to help get supplies. I’d rather beat him at a good aul fist fight anyway.”

“We can make that happen!” John assured him as he got on top of his own horse.

William shook his head and hoisted himself atop Dantès before he offered his sister a hand on to the back of the Dutch Warmblood. “You ever goin’ t’get yourself a new horse?”

“I will eventually,” she replied and hung on to his slim waist. “It’s not an easy thing to do, y’know, gettin’ over a horse.”

“You’ll know when the time is right,” Arthur added, taking his hat from his saddlebag and putting it on his head. “We ready to go, fellers?”

Soon, the four of them were heading out. They galloped through the rolling hills of Madison County, basking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. They reached a spot not far from camp that was known for having a decent amount of activity amongst the local wildlife. One of the many smaller ponds in the area, deer and other herbivores were common enough around those parts, especially on a hot day like this. They left their horses hitched to some trees and went about planning how to take down a few deer if they could. Splitting into two teams, the Hennigans went to one end while Morgan and Marston went to the other. Not far from where Dantès was hitched, Maebh spotted a rabbit slowly scurrying amongst the brush. Crouched low behind a tree, she notched an arrow and steadied herself when William encouraged her to kill it. It was released with a thwack, and flew through the air before successfully piercing the animal, killing it instantly. Its carcass was swiftly clipped to his saddle before the pair slowly crept to a spot near the lake. From here, hidden within some bushes and the shade of an overhanging tree, they could get a good view of the surrounding area and the deer that currently stood drinking water on its bank. Arthur and John could be seen on the other side, thankfully far enough away that their hunting wouldn’t disturb the Hennigans’ targets.

“Right,” William began in a whisper. “We’ve got three horses, which means three deer max. D’you want to get this one?”

She shook her head. “Nah. I got the rabbit — you can hardly go through a huntin’ trip without catchin’ somethin’.”

“If you insist, sis. You’ll grab its attention?”

Maebh watched as her brother carefully notched an arrow and steadied his aim with an unbreakable focus. They had hunted together on too many occasions to count throughout their lives together, so the process was familiar at this stage. When he gave her the signal, she whistled and caused a nearby buck to raise his head in response. Lacking any hesitation, he let the arrow fly and struck it in its neck. With a mewl, the buck fell to the ground and died as the other deer scattered in fright.

“Nice shot,” she commented, glad that the animal didn’t suffer needlessly. “Need a hand carryin’ it back?”

William grinned widely and stood up straight once more. “Ah, thanks, but I’m grand. I don’t want to give Marston an excuse to claim I wasn’t the one who caught it.”

“Don’t mind him,” she insisted, though her tone was moderately amused with the jesting. “He’ll probably pass comment regardless of who carries it back to the horses.”

“Probably,” he replied, and hoisted the carcass over his shoulder. “But no need to give him a bit of ammo.”

She shook her head as they strolled back to the horses, taking in the sight of the peacefullittle lake, now practically devoid of animals thanks to their intrusion. On the other side, she could just about see Arthur and John carrying their own kills in the same direction. “I swear, you’s two would make a competition out of breathin’ if you could.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea… We’ll see who can hold their breath underwater the longest!”

“You _know_ he can’t swim…”

“… Who can hold their breath the longest in general then! First to pass out loses.”

“Jaysus Christ.”

Dantès waited patiently as the pair of them return to his side. While Maeve petted his mane, William loaded the buck on to his rear and secured it with some rope. Not long after that, their companions appeared through the brush, each carrying their own deer.

Maebh offered them a friendly ‘Howdy, gentlemen’, though  Dantès  still held most of her attention.

“Only one buck?” Marston observed, voice slightly out of breath as he carried the hefty animal. “You two are losin’ your edge.”

“Excuse me,” she interjected. “I’ll have you know, Mr Marston, that I caught that succulent lookin’ rabbit too.”

“And a fine rabbit it is,” Arthur chuckled good-naturedly. “He’ll taste good in a stew, although probably not if Pearson’s makin’ it.”

“Marston,” William announced and approached said man as he placed his catch on his horse. “Got a challenge for ya.”

John smirked. “You lookin’ to get beat, boy?”

“I’m only two years younger than ya, pal, calm down.”

“Alright, what you have in mind?”

“We both get thrown into the lake and the first to drown loses.”

Arthur burst out into a hefty laugh while Maebh found herself guffawing at the bitter look of displeasure on Marston’s face. She interjected before a full on fight could break out. “C’mon, let’s get these back to camp before you two have another one of your marital spats.”

Thankfully, everyone agreed to mount up and head back. The success of the trip had the group in good spirits and they took their time heading home, choosing to let the horses roam on an easy trot. As they made their way along the trail, William spotted a small band of wild horses grazing on a rolling hillside. A particularly beautiful chestnut stallion had the young man whipping out his binoculars to get a better look.

William let out a whistle before passing the device to his sister. “That’s some horse.”

“This might be a good opportunity for you to get a new mount,” John suggested. “Considerin’ it’s ’bout time you got one.”

“I’m not the best at breakin’ in horses,” Maebh admitted as she studied the animal from a safe distance atop  Dantès . “I’ve much more experience with breakin’ in fellas.”

John spluttered at the retort while Arthur hid an amused grin. “We’ve got your back if’n you wanna try. Gotta try breakin’ in wild horses sometime.”

Knowing that her companions were right, and with a reassuring promise from William to step in if needed, Maebh hopped on to the ground and slowly approached the grazing horse. She planted her feet carefully as she waded through the grass, trying to keep herself— and the animal — calm. Upon noticing her approach, the stallion raised its head and whinnied. The rest of the herd, alerted to the disturbance, began to scatter in the opposite directing, their hooves thundering into the distance.

“Hey there, big fella,” Maebh called out to the stallion, feeling a little stupid for doing so while her friends were nearby.

The horse stomped a hoof in reply, heavy breaths being snuffed from his nostrils. Despite his visible discomfort, he didn’t run as she continued to slowly make her way to him.

“My brother said you were some horse,” she continued. “And now that I’m up close to ya, I can see he wasn’t full of it.”

The animal began to make small jumps on to his back hooves, neighing as she closed the gap.

“Easy boy, easy… You’re alright. Look at you.”

Eventually she reached the stallion’s side with sure and careful strides. The animal, though somewhat calmer than before, was still visibly uncertain with her presence. She reassured him by carefully patting his neck, though always on edge in case he lashed out — the last thing she wanted was a horse shoe to the face. The thoughts had her heart thumping rapidly. 

Thinking that the interaction was progressing well, she saw an opportunity and quickly hoisted herself on to the horse’s back.

It didn’t end well for Maebh.

She managed to hang on to the now panicking horse’s golden mane for some time, trying to desperately balance herself as it leapt around the pasture and tried to buck her off. The rapid spinning of the world around her and the deafening neighing quickly became too much. Suddenly, her balance was lost and she was falling through the air. The landing stung but she didn’t have much time to think about it; the stallion’s legs were kicking wildly and she could only assume she was in its path. Despite the wind being knocked out of her, she rolled her body in a direction she hoped was away from theangered animal. She rolled and rolled and, as she sensed a distance being put between them, raised her head.

William stood beside the horse, lasso already wrapped around its neck and ensuring that the animal calmed down. Hands grasped her shoulders, and she looked up to see the worried expression on Arthur’s face. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” she admitted and winced as he helped her sit up. “I think I made a balls of that.”

“You nearly had it,” he replied and gave her a once over. “But I think it's in better hands now.”

Now that the horse had calmed down, William thrust the lasso into the stunned John’s hands before flying over to his sister’s side. “Are you alright? He didn’t kick you, did he?”

Seeing the panic in his green eyes, she tried to reassure him. “Nah, I’m grand.”

“You got bucked off a fuckin’ _horse_ and you expect me to think you’re _grand_.”

“I _am_ grand.”

“We’ll have Miss Grimshaw take a look at her back at camp,” Arthur added, presumably trying to calm the situation. “The main thing is she didn’t get kicked. Looks like she got away with only some bruises.”

She pouted at her sibling while he gently brushed some dirt off her tinted cheeks. “I’m sorry I gave you a fright, William.”

“You can repay me by lettin’ me help you back to camp.”

William and Arthur carefully hauled her to her feet, and she was relieved that she could stand without their assistance.

“She okay?” John called while he remained with the wild stallion a few feet away.

“She’ll be fine,” Arthur answered as he fetched their horses. “Doesn’t look like she got any broken bones.”

She allowed William to help ease her atop  Dantès  and carefully wrapped her arms around his waist as he sat in front of her. “Well, that was embarrassin’…”

“At least you got a new horse outta it,” he offered, taking the lasso as John passed it to him. “And you didn’t die either.”

“I think that horse is yours. You calmed him after all, and I don’t think he likes me much.”

William didn’t even glance at the animal as it followed them back to camp. “We’ll discuss that after we make sure you’re okay.”

Knowing that there was no arguing with him, Maebh simply let her cheek rest against his back and enjoyed the smooth ride home, nursing the ache in her hip and her somewhat fractured ego.

* * *

Arthur had thankfully been right — Maebh managed to escape the incident with no broken bones and only received a bit of hefty bruising on her hip and shoulder from the fall. It was nothing too serious, bar some cuts and grazes. She was mostly just relieved that none of her injuries kept her from the bank robbery that they had scheduled to do a few days afterwards. William didn’t leave her side for days, despite the fact she could walk and talk with no issue. She was however prevented from doing other jobs and leaving camp; Dutch said he wanted her in tip top shape for the robbery, so aggravating her injuries wasn’t an option. She did manage to convince her brother to keep the damn horse though, and now the stallion — formally named Banquo — stood grazing with the others at camp. Arthur checked up on her too, bringing hot food and coffee with him. His presence was appreciated, especially when she started getting anxious about being stuck in camp. At night time, Karen came to her with some beers and the two usually ended up drinking themselves to sleep after a sing-song with Uncle and Miss Grimshaw.

Maebh was relieved when the days passed by and the morning of the robbery arrived. She felt fit and ready for the occasion thanks to her few days of rest. Soon, she and William were riding into Winterset with  Dantès  and one of the spare mounts from camp. 

The plan was simple enough. In order to avoid suspicions with a large group riding into town, she and William would go into the bank alone with concealed guns and inquire about making an account as a newlywed couple. Hosea would also go to the bank on his own, and the three of them would wait on opposite ends of the room for the others’ arrival. Karen was the signal that things would begin — she would come in, cause a distraction to grab everyones attention, and Dutch, Arthur, and John would storm the bank through the front door. Once they arrived, it was masks on and all hands on deck. Arthur was to intimidate the manager into opening the lock boxes as quietly and as quickly as possible. The others would keep the tellers quiet. The plan was that there would be no casualties.

They rode into town, dressed to impress in a suit and frock respectively. Having hitched their horses on the edge of town and entering the bank, Maebh and William played their part well, and the latter got into a casual conversation with one of the tellers under his alias.

“I think I should discuss it with my new wife before making a decision; she’d murder me if I did it without her. Y’know how women can be, huh, pal?”

They retired to a pair of seats on the right and pretended to be in deep conversation about their finances. Across the room, Hosea sat and made as though he was perusing through some bank statements.

“We’re lucky it’s not very busy today,” Maebh said to her brother in a hushed whisper. “Less people in the crossfire.”

He glanced around the room quickly before meeting her gaze. “Hopefully that’ll play in our favour. In and out in no time.”

It wasn’t long before wails could be heard outside and a figure came crashing through the front door. Karen stood there, dressed in her fanciest outfit with tears streaming down her plump cheeks. She heaved out complaints about an apparent man who had wronged her as one of the bank’s staff came to her side. Whatever attempts he had at hushing her were drowned out by her howling. She expertly drew him in, only to suddenly unveil a gun and push it into his gut.

Her voice shed its previous woes, now laced with stinging vinegar. “Get your _goddamn_ hands up! This is a goddamn robbery!”

At her signal, Dutch, Arthur, and John burst through the doors, bandanas covering half their faces and guns raised.

“Nobody move!”

“Hands up!”

“Anyone moves and we shoot!”

John was on the teller with the keys in an instant, and William and Maebh moved into position. They tugged their bandanas on and William and Hosea quickly shut the front doors while Maebh waited by the teller’s door.

“Unlock the door,” John ordered and swiftly tossed her the keys. “Quick!”

Maebh did as asked, trying to ignore some of the pleads from the bank’s workers.

“This is a robbery, gentlemen,” Dutch announced, addressing the whole room. “And we don’t want to shoot any of you kind folk. So do as we say and no one gets hurt, is that clear?”

As soon as she unlocked the door, she called out to Arthur. “We’re in! Come help sort the vault out.”

While the others attended to those in the main room, Maebh, William, and Arthur stormed through the door to the vault. Arthur grabbed the manager by his collar and switched his demeanour like the flip of a coin.

“Open the goddamn vault!” he screamed, revolver pointed to his head. “_Open it!”_

“Okay, okay,” the manager said, voice quivering in terror considering he had three guns pointed at his head. “Just don’t hurt me, p-please. I’ve got a family—”

“Open the fuckin’ vault if you want’a see them again!” William growled, getting the man to move. “C’mon the fuck!”

He got to opening the vault, moving too slowly for their liking. With a swift whack of Arthur’s cattleman, he worked faster. “Sonofabitch, _c’mon!_ Hurry up!”

The door opened with a heavy creak, and William pushed the suit into the vault with them. Inside were four lock boxes that were sure to hold ample amounts of money they could use. Though things were going well, Maebh could feel sweat building on the back of her neck.

“We’re in!” she called out to the others. “How you’s holdin’ up out there?”

“We’re fine,” Dutch called back. “Just make sure he opens those lock boxes up without causin’ any trouble!”

Arthur grasped the manager once more and threw him towards the lock boxes. “You best get them open before I put a goddamn hole in your head, boy!”

There was no arguing to be had, and the manager did as he was asked. They quickly shoved the contents of the lock boxes into four bags Arthur had brought along. 

Once they were in the clear, William gave the manager a box and knocked him out cold. “That should give us a bit more time to get away.”

Before either of them could make a comment about how smoothly things had gone, a commotion stirred up in the other room. A single shot rang out. Glass smashed and screams erupted. Hosea’s voice could be heard amongst the rabble. “What the _hell_ are you doin’?”

The trio emerged from the teller’s door to see Dutch stood by the front door, one of the window panes smashed through and glass littered on the ground. Maebh glanced out one of the other windows and saw a dead lawman on the street, blood pouring from a bullet hole in his chest. The weight of the money bag on her back felt all the more heavier now.

“What in the hell happened?” Arthur demanded.

“Lawman was investigatin’,” Dutch explained hastily. “He saw what was goin’ on — I had to shoot him.”

“We _don’t_ kill people on these jobs!” Hosea argued, disgusted by the turn of events.

Dutch refused to back down. “We do when our lives are at stake!”

“Well now you’ve put all of us at risk! We could’ve done somethin’ else!”

Karen quickly joined Maebh at the window just as more lawmen appeared outside. “Awh, shit… We got more law outside, boys!”

“They sure as shit know we’re here now,” Maebh added and turned to face her friends. “What do we do?”

“We fight our way out,” Dutch answered, drawing his pistols in each hand. “And get back to camp alive and _with_ the money. We’ve been plannin’ this for too long to give up now. We gotta leave this town as quick as we can. Arthur and I will open fire and force them to stay in cover while the rest of you get to the horses. Head down the alley and loop around; Hosea will lead the way. Shoot anyone in your way, you hear me?”

“Lead the way, Dutch,” John said and took the spare money bag from Arthur. “We’re right behind you.”

A swift glance amongst the group to ensure that everyone was ready, and Dutch was kicking the door open. He was the first to open fire on the waiting lawmen, who ducked behind shop fronts and buildings to steer clear of the bullets. Arthur followed, wielding a repeater and forcing their adversaries to hide if they wanted to avoid being shot. One by one they emerged from the bank, cash in hand and guns ready to take out anyone who threatened their escape. As always, Maebh planted herself ahead of William, staying low as they hurriedly turned and snuck down the side alley and through the back gardens of several shops and a hotel. The thundering clamour of guns firing and bullets flying through wood and clashing with brick could be heard as Hosea, Karen, Maebh, William, and John skirted around corners and hopped over short fences.

As the horses appeared up ahead, visibly skittering at the sound of shots firing, Maebh threw a glance over her shoulder to see if Dutch and Arthur were nearby. She let John and William pass her as she peered around one of the alleys.

“What are you at?” William asked, hesitating to continue.

“We can’t leave without them,” she insisted, wiping her brow and getting her breath back. “Two men against a whole load of law won’t end well.”

“It’s Morgan and Dutch; they’ll be grand. We need to stay with the others.”

Though the commotion continued to rage, she was relieved to see Arthur come barrelling around one of the corners, skidding on the dirt ground as he went. 

Upon seeing the siblings, he sprinted to their side. “Y’all okay?”

Maebh shook her head. “I feel like we should be askin’ _you_ that. Where’s Dutch?”

“Comin’ ’round now. He told me to go ahead, so let’s move.”

With his confirmation that their leader was alright, the pair followed the older man as they continued in their escape. As they reached the horses — the others already mounted up and ready to leave — Maebh saw Dutch appear from the corner where Arthur had come running. He was unscathed and thankfully outrunning and law that was following him. She would have grinned at the sight, had he been alone.

Before she could cry out in warning, an armed lawman leapt from around a fence behind Dutch. With a whack, he clocked him in the jaw with the butt of his carbine. Dutch was sent sprawling to the dirt.

Maebh grabbed Arthur’s arm in a knee jerk reaction and her breath caught in her throat.

As the lawman stood over their floundering companion and aimed his gun at Dutch’s head, she heard Arthur desperately calling out his name.

A single gunshot cracked through the air.

With a clatter, the carbine felt limply out of the lawman’s hands. His body went next, landing in a lump on the ground, and blood spurting from the wound in the back of his head. Dutch was stunned, as they all were.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” William asked.

Behind the lawman stood a reverend, decked out in a classic black coat and white neckerchief. Underneath his large brimmed hat was thick, wild ginger hair and a weary but anxious expression. In his hand he held a revolver, smoke steaming from its barrel — the weapon that had saved Dutch’s life.

“Thank you, Reverend,” Dutch said, voice cracking beneath his bandana as he let out a sigh of relief. “I think you just saved my life.”

“I think you were in trouble and I helped you,” the stranger replied, frowning beneath his moustache. “Doing nothin’ would’ve been wrong.”

Arthur quickly turned to the others atop their horses. “You three get outta here! We’ll make sure he’s alright.”

Needing no further encouragement, Hosea quickly guided John and Karen out of town at breakneck speeds. Maebh and Arthur sprinted to Dutch and his new friend while William quickly gathered the horses and prepared them for departure. 

“Well, I doubt the law will see it that way,” Dutch said as she and Arthur quicklyhelped him to his feet. “If you wanna live, I recommend comin’ with us.”

“I don’t even know your name,” he replied, but followed uncertainly as they approached their horses. “And by the sounds of things, you just robbed the bank.”

Dutch was quick to mount up and offered the man his hand. “I ain’t gonna lie to you — we did just rob that bank. There will be time for introductions later though. You saved my life, and I owe you a debt, Reverend.”

Though he hesitated for the briefest of seconds, the reverend took the offered hand and hopped on to the Count. Each of them mounted up, just as more law arrived in town, this time riding on horseback. Maebh grabbed her reins and quickly pushed her horse to follow her companions’ tail. Last to leave, she tried to stay close behind her friends as they galloped out past the town’s limits.

Up ahead, Arthur called out. “More comin’ in!”

She looked up and, atop a small hill, three more riders appeared, coming towards them with guns drawn. Dutch was on them first, taking one man down while Arthur got another in a flurry of bullets. One remained, but she steered her heavily breathing horse in an attempt to dodge the oncoming attack. Her companions sped off up ahead, the continued strain of jerky movement causing her horse to tire and slow. 

They were far off when her horse cried out in pain and several bullets struck the animal. For the second time in a few days, Maebh was flung from a stallion and sent crashing into the dusty road below with some force. Her head spun and her shoulder throbbed. She breathed deep, lungs working overtime to get whatever air she could down her burning throat. Quite suddenly, her scalp stung as a vicious hand grabbed her hair and pulled her head up.

She cried out as tears built in the corners of her eyes. Through blurred vision she saw the lawman who shot her mount. Now he stood before her, his gun stuck in her face. “I got you now, you little—”

A deafening blast cracked through the ringing in her ears, and the man’s chest quite literally exploded. Blood and bits of flesh and bone struck her face, and suddenly, the pressure on her skull relaxed. With a wobble, he crashed to the ground, revealing a fuming William behind him. He sat atop his horse, shotgun in hand with a look that could kill. His piercing eyes fell on her — his only visible feature thanks to his bandana — brow furrowed so deep into his brow that it cast a shadow over his youthful face and emphasised the scar marred into his skin. He barely even flinched as he holstered his weapon once more.

“Get on his horse!” he ordered through gritted teeth by the sounds of it. “We need’ta leave now!”

Though dizzy and trying to get her breath back, Maebh listened to her brother, and quickly hauled herself on to the abandoned animal. There was simply no time to think about what had occurred — if she thought about her close encounter at that very moment, it would surely cost her her life this time around. With a glance at the dead horse and body in the middle of the road, she lurched and kicked the animal into a gallop, following her brother over a hill and out of sight as cries from the evaded lawmen disappeared on the wind.


	4. Conversing, for Beginners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang return to camp after the robbery in Winterset, and Maebh asks Arthur what the hell he's always writing in that 'lil book of his'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Spikely for leaving a comment on the previous chapter! I appreciate it a lot. She's got her own Arthur/OFC fic in the works, so check it out if ya fancy it ;) And thank you to those who left kudos too. Glad you guys are enjoying the story. Here's the next instalment.
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Further Away” — Ben Howard, “Morning” — Gustavo Santaolalla, “The Fine Art of Conversation” — Woody Jackson

Arthur had thought the bank robbery would go smoothly, so the drastic turn of events that occurred was an unwelcome one. They adapted — as they always did — but two close calls with Dutch and Maebh were not something he would ever feel ready to comprehend if the worst comes to worst. The former had merely been lucky in his escape with the arrival of a random passerby and he dreaded to think what might have taken place had the Reverend not been present. And Maebh, well… The second she fell behind and her horse lost its life, William had turned his own mount right around. It was only by the young man’s insistence that Arthur and Dutch didn’t try to assist. Instead, they waited until the siblings reappeared over the hill from a short distance away — only then did they lose the lawmen and make the journey back to camp. 

Maebh looked shaken up, and Arthur couldn’t blame her. By the looks of the blood covering her fancy clothes, it had been an eventful rescue. Upon returning to camp, William was quick to help her off the horse she’d escaped on. Dutch had already called for Mrs Matthews and Miss Grimshaw to come and see that the girl was alright, but her brother looked like he would just about murder anyone who put a hand on her. It was only when he and Arthur had carried her to their tent that the latter felt the need to step in.

“You need to take a minute,” Arthur instructed him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. He eased the younger man back a bit, closer to Hosea and John who looked on from a polite distance. “Grab a beer or somethin’.”

William stared at her while she sat on her bedroll with some effort and the two ladies began to look her over for any injuries. “How the hell can I _have a beer_ when there might be somethin’ wrong with her?”

“What happened back there?” Hosea asked in concern. Even John looked a bit worried.

“The law nearly caught her but I shot the fucker before he could take her in. Shot her damn horse though, so she went flyin’.”

Hosea nodded, some of the worry in his expression fading away. “I know it might sound insensitive, but that’s good in the grand scheme of things. Better to fall off a horse than be shot.”

“You saved her, kid,” Arthur added. “Give yourself a bit of credit.”

“And a _break_.” Hosea turned and took a seat at one of the camp tables. “John, would’ja fetch us some beers? I think the kid needs it. If she needs you, William, she’ll call.”

John went to fetch some drinks, albeit it with a slightly disgruntled expression, and Arthur and William took a seat around the table. Arthur watched curiously as the kidpractically refused to take his eyes off his sister in the caring hands of the camp’s two finest matriarchs. He only looked away when Bessie fetched a hot bucket of water and closed the tent off to the outside world. Soon after, John returned and handed each man their own bottle. Arthur cracked his open immediately, enjoying the taste as the cool liquid slid down his throat. After reassuring William that his sister would be alright, they descended into casual conversation, Hosea smartly steering it so that William had to speak and take his mind off things. They discussed the successful aspects of the bank robbery, including the size of the take and what they planned to do with their individual shares. Not only that, but they pondered what would be done with regards funds and the locals who might need it.

In the midst of all this, Dutch came over and briefly joined in the chatter, his jaw now swollen on one side and throbbing red. “A job well done, gentlemen. A damn fine job. It was a tough one, but we adapted just fine as always. Seems like we’re just too slippery for the lawmen in this state.”

“We certainly did alright given the circumstances,” Hosea agreed, and offered Dutch a match as he whipped out a fat cigar. “How’s that bump?”

“Could’a done without it but I’ll live.” He took a drag before turning his attention to young William. “More importantly, how’s your sister doin’, son?”

William shrugged and scratched at the short hair on the back of his neck. “She wasn’t shot at least. Mrs Matthews and Miss Grimshaw are with her now.”

“Well then she’s in the best hands we got. I’ll go pay her a visit and have any formal celebrations rescheduled to suit with whatever recovery time she needs. In the meantime, I’m proud of how strong you’ve been, William — she’s lucky to have a strong lad like you for a brother. God knows where she’s be now if you it wasn’t for your protection.”

William gave the man a nod in thanks as he left them to it, approaching the tent not far across camp. Hosea and John also headed off a little while after that, joining the others around the campfire. Arthur remained, noting how William made no move to go elsewhere.

“She’ll be fine,” he said, glancing at him from beneath the brim of his hat. “She already survived gettin’ thrown off a horse once.”

William shook his head bitterly. “I know. I know it could’ve been a lot worse like Hosea was sayin’, but it…” He hesitated before meeting the older man’s gaze. “It was a close one. It wasn’t the horse that had me worried.”

Arthur nodded in reply. “I understand. Well, I ain’t got a brother or sister myself, but I guess that that bond is pretty strong. Heck, the Callander boys are lunatics but even they got each other’s backs through the thick of it.”

“She’s all I got…” He paused, finally letting his eyes rest on his companion with a sense of finality. “I know this gang has been good to us, and we do see you lot as family to a degree, but she’s…”

When the two siblings first joined that gang, William was definitely the more standoffish and reserved of the two. It took a long time before he opened up to _any_ degree — he was always distant, always stiff in his stance with his arms folded across his broad chest. Arthur always thought that his eyes focused not only on you, but _through_ you, picking away at every little detail and ill thought you held in your heart. He was like a wild dog, always ready to savagely sink his teeth into your hand if you got too close. His trust had to be earned, and it had taken Mr Morgan a long time to get what little he had. But, once you had it, it was a valued asset; something to be cherished like a priceless gem. His loyalty seemed unbreakable, and just looking at the way he and Maebh were together was evidence enough of that.

“She’s important to you,” Arthur finished, then took a swig of his drink. “I get it, kid. Y’know, I’ve been in this gang for most of my life. It’s the only family I got and I’ve always seen little Johnny Marston as my brother. We might not be blood, but it still counts for somethin’.”

William nodded in agreement. “You can see that this gang is a family for those who’ve been in it for a while.”

“You’ll get there too someday; just takes time. But she’s your sister. That kinda bond is special, so you hold on to it.”

“I’m tryin’ my best to do just that.”

Arthur huffed out a snort at that. “You guard that girl with an intensity I rarely see. I fear for the man she marries.”

“Jaysus,” William sighed with an amused expression. “As long as she doesn’t marry one like Marston I won’t have’ta kill him.”

He chuckled at the notion. “Naw, Maebh ain’t dumb enough to end up with someone like him.”

As the pair shared a laugh at John’s expense, Uncle came trotting over, a beer firmly held in his grasp. “Are you two anti-socialites gonna join us ’round the fire, or what? We’re tryin’ to learn more ’bout this reverend feller.”

Arthur played dumb. “What for, old man?”

“I am tryin’ to be kind here, Arthur,” Uncle scolded him in offence. “And acknowledge a job well done on the bank! No need for your usual sour sarcasm.”

Arthur looked to William before replying, but decided to oblige after seeing no negativity in his demeanour. Though the young lad _did_ throw a glance at his tent before following them and joining the others for a somewhat civilised drink. It was awhile later when Miss Grimshaw and Mrs Matthews reappeared with Maebh in tow. Though she was walking with a visible limp, the ladies had helped her wash all the blood and dirt off her face and got her into a fresh set of clothes. Upon seeing his sister gingerly making an entrance, William sprang up despite having consumed a few bottles in the time he’d spent with the others.

“_An bhfuil tú ceart go leor?”_ he immediately asked in their native language — of which Arthur had yet to understand a damn word. But, judging by the kid’s gentle placement of his hands on her shoulders and the look of concern in his eyes, he could gather what he was asking.

Maebh hushed him, insistence evident in her tone, though she was smiling up at him regardless. “_Tá, fan bog!”_

“You nearly gave the boy a heart attack,” Hosea jested from his seat. “Perhaps you ladies should check him over now, just to be safe.”

Dutch raised his drink to her. “We’re glad you made it outta there with barely a scratch, Miss Hennigan! A true testament to your abilities.”

“Or my luck,” she replied with a shrug. “I don’t think I can take all the credit for this one.”

“Beat me to the punch,” John muttered before handing her a bottle of whiskey. “You gotta play catch up now.”

“It would be wise to take your time,” Miss Grimshaw cut in, giving Marston a look that could kill. “Don’t drink at the pace those morons already set.”

“I won’t, Miss Grimshaw. I’m still a bit sore though, so drinkin’ at a reasonable pace is the plan.”

The group cheered to that one, raising their bottles to a job well done and safe return home. 

* * *

** _26th August, 1893, outside Winterset, Iowa_ **

_Despite the fact we had two close calls at the bank, our luck held out and everyone made it out alive. While Dutch ended up with a swollen jaw, Maebh was the one who was ordered to have some bed rest. Thankfully she seems well enough now. She was nearly captured during the escape, but William insisted on going back to save her. The passion with which he protects his sister will always astound me. Maybe it’s because I didn’t really grow up with a sibling, but I’m a little jealous of their strong bond… Regardless, I can look at my own relationships within the gang to try and understand, especially my one with John. He was always like a little brother to me, even if he can grate me sometimes… Alright, maybe more than ‘_ _sometimes_ _’._

_The pair of Irish orphans are something else though. I can only assume that they’ve been through quite a lot together. I’m only now suddenly realising that I don’t know much of their time before the gang. Maybe I’m overthinking things — maybe it is just because all they’ve had for so long was each other. I have to wonder whether I’ll _ _ever_ _ know—_

“Whatcha writin’ there?”

Arthur looked up from his journal to see Maebh standing at the threshold of his tent, two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. He shut the book before placing it down on his cot. “Nothin’ interestin’, I can promise you that.”

At the foot of his Arthur’s cot, Copper raised his head at the newcomer. His tail began to wag as Maebh offered the dog his own greeting.

“Whatever you say,” she replied and offered him one of the cups. As he thanked her, she took a seat on the ground. As soon as she was sat down comfortably, Copper was on his feet and plodding over to join her. She cooed at his dog and happily scratched behind his ears before once more meeting Arthur’s gaze. “All these years, Mr Morgan, and I still have no idea what in the hell you write in that little book of yours.”

He smirked at her comment. “Tell you what; maybe you finally tell me somethin’ ’bout yourself, and I can write it down in this little book of mine.”

“Whatcha mean?”

“What you mean ‘what I mean’?”

“Are you, the mysterious Arthur Morgan, insinuatin’ that _I’m_ the mysterious one?”

He shook his head and aimlessly scratched the stubble on his chin. “All I know is I know very little ’bout ya. I think I’ve gotten a bit more outta your brother than you actually.”

“Well,” she sighed, gently cupping her coffee in her hands while Copper laid down on the grass beside her, his furry back resting against her leg. “I don’t exactly know loads ’bout _you_ either. So to me, it sounds like we’re mysterious peas in an incomprehensible pod.”

Arthur assessed her from his spot. She was still decorated in a few bruises and cuts from her second fall off a horse, but seemed far less stiff and sore than she had previously been. Perhaps that was something to open with, and hopefully lead into other conversation. “How’re you feelin’ after Winterset?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, grand. Could’a been a lot worse, and while I hate being segregated to takin’ it easy, I know it had to be done.”

“I don’t like havin’ to rest much either,” he agreed sympathetically. “But it’ll help you in the long run, which is important.”

“I don’t even mind havin’ to loiter ’round camp if I’m doin’ jobs and the like, but sittin’ and doin’ nothin’ drives me up the wall.”

“You seem to spendin’ most of it lookin’ after that new horse o’yours.” He nodded towards where said horse was grazing on the other side of camp. After riding it out of Winterset during the robbery, Arthur had noticed how Maebh had tentatively approached the animal the next day, probably half expecting to receive a hefty kick or bite. But the tall horse seemed surprisingly docile, instead happily accepting the attention with curious ears titled towards the new stranger. She returned again later with pats and a peach, which seemed to go down well, so Arthur saw an opportunity to quickly sketch the pair in his journal, something he never intended on letting her see.

Maebh threw a curious glance over her shoulder at the relaxed animal. “She’s a nice horse. Seems to like me a lot more than Banquo ever did. William did advise me on how to approach her though, just to make sure I couldn’t add ‘kicked in the head by a horse’ to my long list of embarrassin’ injuries…”

“She’s a beautiful animal. You gonna keep her?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly, clearly thinking it over. “I think it’s ’bout time I got a new mount. I suppose I wouldn’t be much of an outlaw without one. Maybe me and my horse can be as compatible as you and Boadicea someday.”

“If you look after her just right then it can happen. As I always say, if you look after a horse, it’ll look after you just as good.” He took a sip of his coffee before noticing that her eyes were subtly fixed on his journal, and found himself smirking at her inquisitiveness. “Still curious then?”

“Always,” she admitted and leaned forwards slightly. “I always see you scribblin’ away in that thing. I’m startin’ to think you’re writin’ the world’s longest novel.”

“I sure as hell ain’t no novel writer,” he replied, embarrassed by the insinuation. “That’s for sure.”

Her brow piqued slightly. “So if you’re not a novelist, you a playwright?”

“Naw.”

“A poet?”

That one made him laugh aloud. “Say that louder so Dutch and Hosea can get a kick out of it too.”

She held a hand up in mock defence. “I’m just tryin’ to cover all the options here!”

“Well there ain’t no stories, plays, or poems to be readin’ in here,” he said before gesturing to the apparently mysterious book. “Just… my thoughts really.”

The young woman let out a prolonged ‘ah’ and met his gaze. “So it’s like a journal?”

“I guess so.” He lowered his head at the admission, his rough fingers tapping on the edge on the warm cup. He cleared his throat and tried to appear casual about it all. “It ain’t nothin’ _really_. Just helps me keep track o’things.”

“You don’t need’ta explain yourself to me,” was her response, her tone having shifted from mild jesting to a gentle understanding. “Journals are personal things — maybe even more so than writin’ stories. So don’t worry; I’m not goin’ t’ask you to let me read it.”

The fact she didn’t tease him for keeping a journal was a small relief for Arthur. He’d previously been consumed with the worry about her thinking it was pointless or excessive, but now he merely wondered from where this empathetic awareness came. “You speakin’ from experience?”

She paused and suddenly she was the one finding the grass beneath her quite interesting. “Kinda. I used to write stories as a kid.”

Well, there was something he didn’t know about her.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by that,” he mused. “You fancied yourself a writer?”

The subject was a curious one. Her entire demeanour shifted with the mention of her old hobby. He noticed her hands relentlessly tapping on the cup, causing it to ring out in a repeated rhythmic beat. “Maybe when I was younger, not so much now.”

Over the years, they had talked of the past surprisingly little in the time they’d known each other. They knew the basics sure, but personal details in the realm of secret pastimes were few and far between. He was quite intrigued with the new information, so curiosity got the better of him. “What made you wanna be a writer?”

“I like stories,” she replied with a small smirk. “Thought you could’ve guessed that from all the readin’ I do.”

“Suppose I should’a guessed that much.”

“I’ve just... always been into readin’ stories and tryin’ to create my own when I was younger. I had an active imagination.”

Arthur thought of the times he rarely saw a book out of her hand if she wasn’t otherwise occupied with chores or drinking. “You must’ve been read to a lot as a kid then.”

The ghost of a smile passed over her lips. The movement was one he rarely saw — it was genuine, entirely so, not the same type of smile she plastered on in most group situations. Her eyes appeared glazed, as though she was somewhere far away at that very moment. “My ma and da were big into storytellin’ — my ma in particular. She used to insist that it was important we were familiar with stories of where we came from, both real and fictional. So it was normal for us to be told a story before bed each night. Somewhere along the line, I think I began tellin’ my own ones. Or trying to at least. Sometimes I just repeated her ones over and over again.”

Arthur rarely heard Maebh talk about her parents. He still didn’t know much about what happened to them or who they were. Their existence remained a mystery to him, much like their children still did to a degree. Of what little he knew, her memories of them seemed mostly fond at least. She was lucky to have folks like that, lest he thought of hisown bastard of a daddy. 

He sipped at his coffee, trying to waste the bitter taste off his tongue. “They sound like educated people. Your folks, I mean.”

“Not so much actually. They were just brought up in the same way and I think they wanted us to be aware of what was goin’ on ’round us.”

“Were they from Dublin too?”

As she spoke, a tentative hand ran over the back of her neck, skimming the chain of her necklace back and forth. “My ma yeah, but my da was from Connemara which is in the west of Ireland.”

He sensed that he was veering into uncertain and unstable territory. Though he was curious about her upbringing, he got the feeling that she would close off if he pushed the talk of her parents, so with a casual nod, he railed her back in. “So, you got parents who love to read and tell stories, and then you start writin’ your own... Why’d you stop?”

Her answer was dismissive, and her fidgeting hands didn’t relent with his new question. “I don’t really have time for all that anymore. Kinda busy doin’... _outlaw_ stuff.”

He thought about her reply for a moment, then let out a sigh and tapped the leather cover of his journal. “I’ve had this here journal for just over a year now. And I had one before that, and one before that. I’ve been writin’ in ‘em since Hosea got me my very first one a couple years after I joined this gang. You just gotta make time if it makes you happy. Dutch keeps up with his readin’, John whittles in his free time, Susan always tries to have a game of poker when things get stressful, Hosea and Bessie go out on huntin’ trips to get away sometimes. Hell, I’ve seen you and William goin’ on fishin’ trips sometimes. If you like it, you gotta make time.”

She seemed to ponder his words, the tapping of her fingers slowing until they stopped. When he met her gaze, he found her watching him intently with curiously glint in her eye. She nodded slowly and then said. “I suppose you’re right. I might look into it at some point if I have the time.”

“Good. And then maybe sometime you’ll let me read the stories you write.”

She actually grinned at the suggestion and let out a laugh. “The day that happens is the day you let me look in that lil journal.” She got to her feet, coffee in hand. “I’ll leave you to your writin’, Arthur. I don’t want’a take up much more of your time.”

“Alright, well, thanks for your company, Maebh.”

“The pleasure was mine.” She reached down to pet Copper’s head. “See you in a bit, boy.”

Arthur gave her a small wave as she wandered off to the other side of camp. He watched as she was set upon by Karen and the two got into a casual conversation. Copper eyed her too, before letting his head rest one of his paws again and catching up on some shut eye.

Without much thought, Arthur grabbed his journal again and opened it on the page he had been writing before her arrival. With a slightly dull pencil, he picked up where he left off:

_So, seems that Maebh used to be a storyteller. Why does that come as no surprise to me? Hosea and Dutch always encouraged that I kept up with reading and writing, though I suspect she will not need to be encouraged to stick with reading. Regardless, maybe I can help ease her back into writing if that’s what she’s passionate about. I tried to explain how important it is to have hobbies outside of the gang, but I’m not sure if my words failed me or not. I’m not the best at passionate speeches — that’s more Dutch’s job than mine. Hopefully I didn’t discourage her, at least. _

_Still, it was nice to discuss trivial things for once. It seems that I’ve gotten my share of personal conversations with the Hennigan siblings in the last few days. Hopefully we do it more in the future and I can learn more about these two orphans and where they came from._


	5. To Go for a Drink is One Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang head into a local town to celebrate the bank heist, but also manage to attract some unwanted attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! I think the story is progressing along nicely at the moment... I'm genuinely happy with the plans that are to come in the future. Anyway, hopefully you guys enjoy chapter five -- it contains some drunken cowpokes, so that's a bonus, right? Any thoughts at all, let me know. Enjoy!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “The Railroad” — Goodnight, Texas, “Randy Dandy-Oh” — The Dreadnoughts, “Little Sadie” — Crooked Still, “Devil Do” — Holly Golightly & The Brokeoffs

Evening descended upon Madison County. With the dwindling sun setting the clear sky alight with vibrant yellows and oranges, the Van der Linde gang were already cracking open some beers and celebrating their successful venture in Winterset. After her earlier conversation with Arthur, Maebh had managed to convince Dutch to let her take her new horse out for a short trot outside camp. He seemed a little hesitant, but willingly relented when she insisted she felt much better after resting for so long. His one condition was that William go with her, and for some reason she got the feeling that her brother would have insisted anyway had Dutch not suggested it.

“I’m pretty sure she’s a Thoroughbred,” William announced as he made sure her saddle was securely strapped to the animal’s back. “If I was to take a guess anyway.”

Maebh was busy brushing the horse’s dark mane and raised a brow at her brother. “How can ye tell? Cause she’s mad tall?”

“That and the distinctive brindle coat. Plus, look at her — she’s all lean muscle for racin’. You picked yourself up a beaut.”

She grinned at the prospect of owning such a lovely animal. “Guess I finally had some luck with horses for once.”

“I guess you did.” He took a step back and pulled himself up on to Banquo. “Alright, up ye get. Let’s stretch their legs a bit.”

With slightly stiff arms, Maebh managed to climb atop the mare. Once seated comfortably, she let out a breath and rubbed the side of her neck. “_Maith an cailín._ Let’s get you movin’.”

As they lead their horses out of camp, William called to her over his shoulder. “You got a name for her yet?”

“Well, I was thinkin’ ’bout it, and then I realised I can’t give her a simple name like Bonnie or Biscuit because she’ll be surrounded by horses called Banquo and  Dantès , so that wouldn’t fly.”

“Is that a sly dig at me?”

“It’s not sly if it’s _true_.”

Once they reached the outskirts of camp, they lead the horses around the outer perimeter at a slow trot. Her new mare seemed easy enough to direct and tolerated her more than Banquo ever had.

“Alright,” William admitted. “I’ll give you that. What names did you have in mind for her then?”

“I’d been thinkin’,” she began. “’Bout one of my favourite stories that ma used to tell during _Samhain. _You remember the Dullahan, yeah?”

William eased his horse so that he was trotting alongside his sister. He seemed amused by the suggestion. “The headless horsemen? Very clever.”

“I think it suits her. And this way, she’ll be on the same level as your two.”

“I’m kinda jealous I didn’t come up with that myself...”

Maebh chuckled and looked down at her mount. “You hear that, Dullahan? I think William wants to steal you off me. Not that I can blame him.”

After a short silence, William spoke up again. “What d’you think they’d think of us now?”

Maebh turned her head to find him watching her with a serious expression. “Who?”

“Ma and Da.”

She gripped the reins firmly in her hands as they turned over a slight bend in the road. “I think they’d be proud of us.”

“Ye think?”

“Yeah,” she answered with certainty. “I do. Think about it — did you think we’d get this far after what happened to ’em? I don’t think most kids would’ve. We were lucky enough that we found the gang when we did.”

“What ’bout all the robbin’?” he asked thoughtfully. “I like to think that they don’t mind it.”

“I’d say as long as we don’t rob the innocent, then they’re all for it. Robbin’ the rich to give back to the poor? That’s basically like all those _Robin Hood_ stories they used to tell us.”

“You’re in my boat so.” He smiled at the fond memories, seemingly miles away in his head. “Yeah, I think we’re right; they’d be proud of us.”

“Once we don’t lose ourselves in any of this or literally lose track of how we’re survivin’, they’ll stay proud of our choices.”

They didn’t stay out riding for long. Once they had done a few laps around the outer perimeter, the horses were lead back the way they came. They returned just before nightfall, as Dutch had asked, and went to his tent to announce her return.

“How was the ride?” Dutch asked upon their return, casually smoking a cigar with a glass of whiskey in his free hand. “Any trouble?”

“Us? Trouble?” Maebh asked, feigning innocence. “No such thing.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He stood up and pulled two beer bottles from a nearby crate and passed them on to the siblings. “How’s that new mount comin’ along?”

“She’s doin’ great,” Maebh replied, glancing over to where the horse was hitched beside their tent. “Really nice horse to ride too. I think I might actually have a name for her now.”

“Is it also somethin’ Shakespearean?”

“Nah, but it’s somethin’ Irish.”

Dutch let out a small laugh. “Well, why ain’t I surprised?”

“I’m goin’ t’call her Dullahan.”

Dutch appeared thoughtful before repeating the name himself. “Sounds like a good choice to me. Now I ain’t got a clue what it means, but I like it.”

“The Dullahan were famous horsemen from Irish mythology,” William explained between sips of beer. “Usually known for bein’ headless and ghostly. I think it suits her.”

“That it does, son. A fine choice for a fine stead. Just make sure you don’t lose your head anytime soon, Miss Maebh.”

At that moment, Mac Callander came strolling over to Dutch’s tent. He had already had a few judging by his slightly slurred speech. “We headin’ into town or what, Dutch?”

“O’course,” Dutch replied while getting to his feet. “I was waitin’ for these two to come back first.”

Maebh’s eyes lit up at the prospect. “Wait, are we finally celebratin’ the take from the bank?”

“Damn right,” Mac replied. “I’ll let the others know we’re headin’ out.”

As their companion walked away, William asked curiously. “We aren’t headin’ into Winterset itself, are we?”

“Indeed we ain’t. We’re headin’ north to De Soto instead. They got a decent enough saloon up there for such an occasion.” Dutch grinned at the siblings. “Y’all best get those horses ready again.”

De Soto, over an hour’s ride from their camp outside Winterset, was a small enough town. Only a few of them had been in and out of it in comparison to some of the other bigger places around the county. It was certainly a more practical idea to drink there instead of going back into a town they robbed mere days ago. As they arrived at the local saloon, Maebh looked on at the gang in amusement. Most of them were already half cut and singing songs as she hitched her horse next to William’s. Inside, the place was already hopping. A musician played away at the saloon piano, managing to rouse some of the more inebriated patrons into song and dance. Noisy chatter filled the room and barely any notice was taken of them as they arrived. Some of the gang including Mr Pearson, Hosea, Miss Grimshaw, and Uncle commandeered the Black Jack table while others surrounded the bar. Before Maebh could make a decision about where to go, a hand on her arm pulled her towards the bar. A slightly tipsy John Marston guided her to a small opening amongst the crowd and helped ease her to the front of the bar before standing beside her.

“It’s a tight squeeze in here,” she commented, pressed between her friend on her right and a stranger on her left. “Gettin’ drinks is gonna be a pain.”

“Whatchu drinkin’?” John asked her as he tried to count the coins in his hand with one eye closed and his tongue sticking out between his lips. “First round’s on me.”

Maebh gave him an incredulous look. “What, you dyin’ or somethin’, Marston? What’s with the generosity?”

“Guess I’m just feelin’ generous for once. That, and you nearly died a few days ago.”

“I’m only messin’,” she assured him with a gentle half hug around the shoulders even though they were already packed together like sardines as it was. “Thanks. Next one is on me.”

“I ain’t gonna refuse that.” Just then, the barman had a spare minute to take their orders.John took it upon himself to order four beers — two each — given the slightly longer wait. 

She had been about to go join her brother when John struck up a conversation. “How you feelin’?”

“Much better than how I felt a few days ago,” she admitted after having a sip of her drink. “The rest did a lot for me.”

John’s brown eyes appeared focused despite the fact he was usually a massive lightweight. “I know the feelin’. I’ve gotten in and outta plenty of scraps with my fair share of knocks. Sometimes rest will do ya a world of good, even if ya hate doin’ it.”

She chuckled slightly. “I definitely hated it. So I plan on gettin’ excessively drunk tonight to make up for lost time.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He clinked his bottle against hers and had another sup. “I intend on joinin’ you.”

“How much’ve you had to drink already?”

He shrugged. “A couple beers back at camp. Why?”

“I’m just surprised you’re not on the ground already.”

John rolled his eyes, though the small smirk on his face told her he didn’t take it to heart. Slagging him for being a lightweight was a common occurrence at that point. “You best be careful, Miss Hennigan, or I’ll drag you down there with me.”

“Always one for the dramatics—”

The arrival of William cut the conversation off. He had a whiskey in hand and a slightly sour expression as he addressed his sister. “Are you goin’ t’stay at the bar all night or come join the rest of us?”

Maebh looked at John and nodded her head towards the rest of the gang. “You comin’ to rejoin civilisation?”

“I’ll catch up. You two go ahead.”

Once more thanking him for the drinks, Maebh grabbed her beers and allowed William to usher her to a nearby table where Dutch, Arthur, and Bessie were sitting. Upon seeing the siblings, Dutch enthusiastically requested a song. The demand left no room for refusal, and when Hosea and Uncle encouraged it from their Black Jack game, William shrugged and slung an arm around Maebh’s shoulders.

He started them off with a classic their father had taught them as children. “_Now we are ready to sail for the horn!” _

Maebh let out a hearty laugh and joined in at the chorus lines. “_Weigh hey, roll and go!”_

As William took the lead, he gestured for the others to join in with whatever words they knew. It certainly wasn’t the first time they had sung this song. “_Our boots and our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn!”_

Bessie’s voice joined Maebh at the chorus again. “_To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!”_

Soon, other members of the gang were joining in, mostly with each second line, and a sing-song had well and truly started. 

_“Heave a pawl, o heave away_

_Weigh hey, roll and go!_

_The anchor's on board and the cable's all stored_

_To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!_

Mac appeared at the table with more rounds of beers, passing pint glasses around the group_. _

_Man the stout caps'n and heave with a will,_

_Weigh hey, roll an' go!_

_For soon we'll be drivin' her 'way up the hill._

_To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!_

_Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,_

_Weigh hey, roll and go!_

_The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,_

_To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!_

Soon, the glasses Mac had provided were being used to bash the table top, keeping a steady beat as William lead them in enthusiastic song.

_Heave away, bullies, ye parish-rigged bums,_

_Weigh hey, roll and go!_

_Take yer hands from yer pockets and don't suck yer thumbs._

_To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!_

_Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,_

_Weigh hey, roll and go!_

_The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,_

_To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!_

John appeared at the tables, rousing more welcoming cheers from them. Now with everyone joining in, the chorus reached an impressive volume, flourished with intermittent cheers and whistles between lines. 

_We're outward bound for Vallipo Bay,_

_Weigh hey, roll and go!_

_Get crackin', me lads, it's a hell of a way._

_To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!_

_Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,_

_Weigh hey, roll and go!_

_The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,_

_To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!_

_Heave a pawl, oh, heave away,_

_Weigh hey, roll and go!_

_The anchor's on board an' the cable's all stored,_

_To be rollicking Randy Dandy-O!”_

The gang cheered in delight as the song came to an end. Applause were shared as people settled into conversation once more.

“You’re quite the showman, son,” Dutch complimented young William as he downed the end of his drink. “For such a reserved and hardened criminal.”

“It takes one to know one, right?” William shot back in jest, offering his bottle up in a gesture of cheers.

Arthur chuckled. “He’s got ya there, Dutch.”

Their leader found the response amusing. “That he does! C’mon, lemme buy you another drink.”

As the pair left for more alcohol, Hosea joined Maebh, Arthur, and Bessie at the table.

“It’s far too easy to lose money on that game,” he announced as he took a seat beside his wife. “Far too easy.”

“Don’t tell me you bust out already, old man?” Arthur asked incredulously.

“No, I just have enough sense to know when to call it a day.”

“That’s certainly debatable,” Bessie argues with a wry grin. “I can remember you emptying your wallet on more than one occasion.”

“My beautiful wife defendin’ my honour as always!”

“At least we’ve got some extra cash to spend on drinks and games this time,” Maebh added with a shrug and raised her glass. “To us, for actually gettin’ away with it despite a bit of a mess.”

The four of them clinked their drinks together, a small chorus of positive responses raising above the noise. As she took a sip of her drink, she noticed Arthur sitting with a slightly sour expression at the mention of the robbery. He cleared his throat suddenly. “I gotta ask, Hosea, what happened back in the bank?”

Hosea’s brow raised slightly. “What d’you mean?”

“While we was grabbin’ the money,” he elaborated. “We come back and suddenly a lawman is dead. That ain’t exactly like us.”

“I thought Dutch said he had to do it?” Maebh said. “That our cover would’ve been blown otherwise?”

“That’s what he says.” Though Hosea was merely repeating her words, there was something in his tone that left her unsettled. “I thought there might have been another way to go about things, that killin’ should’ve been a last resort. And maybe he panicked when he saw that man sniffin’ about. He says he saw us and was runnin’ for backup. Hell, I didn’t see any of it until I heard Dutch smashin’ the window and unloading a bullet into him. Regardless of whether he shot him or not, we were in trouble the second that lawman saw what was goin’ on. About the only good thing was that he couldn’t tell his friends how many of us were involved, which helped us escape afterwards.”

Bessie chose that moment to add her own thoughts. “If he was goin’ for backup, then surely it was a case of bein’ either you or him?” 

“I don’t ever agree with it unless it’s either you or the guy pointin’ the gun in your face, but trust in Dutch. I mean hell, he got us outta there alive.”

Maebh nodded her head towards Reverend Swanson, who sat nearby gulping down a whiskey. “With a little help from God.”

“I guess we also had some luck too.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to worry ’bout,” Arthur said rather dismissively. “It was a once off.”

“He ain’t steered us wrong yet,” Bessie added. “As long as we don’t start killin’ willy-nilly, we’ll be fine.”

“As long as that’s how things remain then I’m fine with it,” Hosea agreed. “No unnecessary killin’ or robbin’; we ain’t petty criminals. D’you remember what Dutch said to you when you were younger, Arthur? When you stole from that poor man’s house?”

Arthur nodded, lit himself a cigarette and then offered the box to his friends. “If we go ’round robbin’ and killin’ aimlessly, then we’re no better than the government that’s corruptin’ this land. We help people.”

“What does he say?” Maebh asked with a small laugh as she accepted a cigarette for herself. “We gotta have faith, right?”

Hosea nodded. “_Exactly._ Keep the faith in him and you’ll be fine. He’s a great man; one I’m proud to stand alongside.”

“You’s don’t fancy tryin’ to get out of it all again, then? I remember you told me that you tried before.”

“Ain’t no gettin’ out,” Bessie answered and placed her hand on her husband’s. “But I go where he goes. I agreed to a lot of things when I married him, and stickin’ by him through thick and thin is part of it.”

Her words had Maebh feeling curious. Her thoughts wandered to her parents and their attempted escape from a similar lifestyle. “You really think there’s no gettin’ out?”

“When you’ve been in it as long as we have, no. These old men don’t know any better. Can you see Dutch becomin’ a farmer one day? Maybe a ranch worker? Ain’t no chance.”

The notion was amusing to her, and she certainly agreed that it wasn’t a very likely future for the gang. She threw a glance in Dutch’s direction, seeing him speaking intently with William at the bar. His hand lay reassuringly on the younger man’s shoulder. Whatever they were talking about, it seemed intense. 

The next time Maebh drunkenly waddled her way to the bar, she saw Marston and Davey talking to some working women. John, ever the prolific ladies man, already had his arm wrapped around one of them. Originally she had gone in search of him to pay him back with a drink, but decided to leave them to their escapades. She chuckled at the sight while asking the barman for some more beers.

“I know an Irish accent when I hear one,” a voice called from her right and she turned her head to see a man standing next to her. He nodded to her from beneath his worn flat cap. “Howiya, Miss.”

“Do I know you?” she asked as she handed the barman his money.

“No, but hopefully I’ll get to know you.” Though she didn’t know him, the stranger spoke in a distinctive Northern Irish accent.

“Oh! You’re a Paddy too.” 

“Ah, see? Ye do know me, Miss…?”

“I don’t give my name out to strangers, Mister,” she replied with a wary smile. “Even if they come from _Éire_ too.”

The man grinned at her. “Well how ’bout you let me get to know you better so I’m not considered a stranger. My name’s Pádraig.”

At that moment, the barman set down her order on the counter and Maebh noticed Arthur take up a spot on her left at the bar. She knew what he was doing — usually if she or any of the other ladies were being bothered by pushy lads, Mr Morgan was more than happy to stand somewhere nearby just in case they fancied a hand in telling them to clear off. She heard him make an order, but pretended that she didn’t know him.

She instead replied to the Irishman. “Well, aren’t you forward, Pádraig.”

“I am when I know what I want, Miss, so how much will it cost me to get yer name?”

Her brow piqued, and she could feel Arthur tense slightly behind her. “_Cost?”_

“Yeah. I don’t mind spendin’ a pretty penny on you. I’d say you’re up for anythin’ by the look of ye.”

A smile slowly tugged at Maebh’s lips. The man clearly mistook that for a good sign. He should have known better.

In as sultry a movement she could muster, Maebh slid up the side of the bar to stand a little closer to the clueless chap.

“Well, Pádraig,” she began, and lightly traced his clean-shaven jawline. “You really know how to make a lady blush.”

“You aren’t no lady,” he replied with a smirk, probably thinking he was about to get lucky. “I can spot women whorin’ a mile off. Told you I knew ye.”

“I uh, think you might be right. I certainly amen’t no lady.”

In an instant, her demeanour changed. Pádraig hardly had time to react before she grabbed him round the back of the head and slammed him face-first into the countertop. The crunch and cry that came from him grabbed the attention of those nearby, while some were distracted by the booming music and rabble filling the bar. The barman let out a shocked profanity as Maebh stood over the whimpering stranger. “How ’bout you clear out of here before you insult someone else with your rude assumptions, ye bleedin’ _gobshite_.”

Pádraig, clutching his blood-stained nose, glared up at her in anger. “You mad _bitch_—!” 

“You heard the lady, boy!” Arthur growled, choosing that moment to take his place by her side and send the man a look that could kill. “Get the hell outta here!”

Now everyone in the saloon had noticed the ruckus, setting down their drinks to see what might happen next. Dutch got up from his seat at the table, silently backing up his gang by placing a hand on his holstered revolver. William stood too, entirely ready to defend them if needs be. A man she presumed to be a friend of Pádraig hurried to his side and helped to haul him to his unsteady feet.

“Hey!” the barman exclaimed as he pointed a finger at the pair. “I thought I told you lot to stay outta my establishment!” 

“_Leave it_, right,” Pádraig’s companion urged him. “Let’s go!”

“I’ll get you back for that,” the injured man sneered as he allowed himself to be dragged out of the saloon. “Mark my words!”

“_Proddy bastard!”_ Maebh called after him with a glare.

As the two men left the building, slowly but surely the music began to play again and people returned to their earlier conversations. It was right back to business.

“You okay?” Arthur asked her with a small smile on his.

“I’m fine,” she replied before looking back at him. “What’re you smilin’ at?”

“Just replayin’ how you broke that bastard’s nose in my head. I found it quite amusin’.”

Knowing he was getting a kick out of the confrontation, Maebh couldn’t help but smile too. “He definitely deserved it, right?”

“_O’course._ He needs to learn when to shut his damn mouth.”

“Right then, I don’t feel as bad about it now.”

“But I gotta ask… What the hell is a _proddy?”_

From his spot behind the counter, the barman cleared his throat to gain their attention. “No more fights in my saloon, _please_. I don’t want no more trouble in here effecting my business.”

“I can assure you, Mister,” Arthur began, holding up his hands. “We won’t bring no more trouble ’round. That feller was insinuatin’ some nasty things to the lady.”

“It won’t happen again,” she added, seeing the man frowning at them from beneath his bushy beard. “We can promise you that.”

“Good, I appreciate that. Now go make sure your friends behave.”

On that note, Marston and Davey appeared before her. They wore visible frowns, and the latter was the first to express his displeasure. “Our company up and left thanks to your brawlin’.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and clasped his belt buckle in his hands. “You mean your expensive company? I doubt you’re missin’ much.”

“They was company no less, Morgan.”

“That they was,” John grumbled, looking rather unamused. “Thanks for the damn help, Hennigan. It’s not like I was tryin’ to get my frustrations out or anythin’.”

“A few more nights of your hand won’t kill ye,” she replied dismissively. “And knowin’ you, you’ll find more willing women in the next town over.”

Despite his threats, Pádraig and his friend didn’t return to the saloon that night. With a brawl avoided, Dutch’s boys continued their celebrations and drank into the early hours of the morning. When they were finally forced to leave, they slowly stumbled out into De Soto’s streets and regrouped. Somehow, Maebh and John ended up in a harmless scuffle, which in turn led to William giving her a jockeyback, while Arthur did the same with John. They ended up drunkenly wrestling in these positions, with the loser being the first one to fall from their partner’s back. The whole thing had been hilarious in their drunken stupor, and it was only broken up when Hosea reluctantly got involved and said they needed to return to camp. While John tried to get down without falling flat on his face, William let Maebh stay where she was, and opted to carry her to her horse. In the haze of clambering on to Dullahan’s saddle, she caught a glance of Dutch speaking to a woman she didn’t recognise. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see him placing a kiss on her knuckles — he and Miss Grimshaw had called it quits last year, and though they had remained on good terms, Dutch’s didn’t stop his womanising ways. Though it was difficult for her eyes to focus, she seemed to be a pretty blonde, closer in age to Arthur than herself. She watched as Dutch saw her off and she rejoined the small group with whom she had come. Though unusual to see women in saloons at that time of night, she wasn’t surprised that Dutch had seen an opportunity to talk to a beautiful lady and subsequently taken it.

The ride back to camp was filled with singing and people nearly falling off their horses on to the dusty road below. Thankfully there were no injuries and everyone made it back in mostly one piece. On the outskirts of camp, people were either rearing for more alcohol, or already half passed out and ready for bed. Maebh, however, was dying for the loo.

“Anyone else need to take a leak?” she asked the group as she brought Dullahan to a stop. “I’m _burstin_’.”

“I do,” Karen replied in a slur and nearly stumbled off her horse. “Gotta make room for more beers.”

John’s face wore a drunken smirk. “I think I’ll join you ladies in the bushes.”

The statement earned him a smack around the back of the head from William, who glared at him from atop Banquo. “Ye will in your hole. Get t’fuck into camp, you.”

“Little Johnny Marston!” Karen teased him as he rubbed the back of his sore head. “Ever the ladies man!”

Maebh handed William her horse’s reins while Mac grabbed Karen’s and the two stumbled off into the nearby bushes. Together they squatted amongst the shrubbery, and Maebh began to regret her decision to wear trousers instead of a skirt.

Around them, the small thicket was alive with whatever nocturnal animals made this spot their home. Above them, owls hooted and crickets sang their own tunes in response. The wind had died down, causing the leaves to lightly rustle every now and then. In the moonlight, it was difficult for either of them to see very far ahead. Even still, the night was calm and the atmosphere relaxing.

“I think John might’ve been comin’ on to us,” Karen pondered casually as they were left alone. “That boy is one messy drunk.”

Maebh shrugged as she finally relieved some pressure on her bladder. “He doesn’t mean anythin’ by it. I’m pretty sure he’s just desperate for his hole after I ruined his chances with yer wan.”

“I saw that! Jeesh, how’re you after breakin’ that feller's nose?”

“I’m grand. He was bein’ a right prick, if I’m honest.”

“I heard. Arthur told me he deserved it for bein’ a little shit. You know we always have each other’s backs in those nasty situations.”

“Thankin’ you. And if Arthur says that, then you _know_ it’s bad—”

Maebh’s reply was cut short. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” she asked as she pulled her trousers back up. “All I can hear is you pissin’.”

“I thought I heard a twig snappin’,” Karen replied as she too stood up. “I’m sorry — the beers are gettin’ to me. I had way too many…”

“I’m sure it was just a racoon or somethin’.”

“Or maybe it was John comin’ back to try his luck?”

Maebh let out a barking laugh at the suggestion and slowly began to make her way back to camp in Karen’s company. “If that’s the case then I’m makin’ a run for it now!”

“Ugh, I ain’t able to _run_,” the blonde grumbled and linked her arm around her friend’s. “You can’t leave me out here while I’m drunk and sleepy.”

“I think we best get ourselves to our bedrolls.”

The women went back to camp with empty bladders and full intentions on going to sleep. But, Karen’s resilience broke as soon as Uncle offered her another beer, and suddenly Maebh was being dragged back into the throng, a whiskey finding its way into her hand. Yes, she had definitely planned on retiring to her tent and trying to sleep off the copious amounts of alcohol she had consumed, but her gang mates were bursting into song and dance yet again, and as Mac Callander pulled her into a jig around the campfire, suddenly rest was the last thing on her mind. She was more than happy to stay up with her friends and see the sun rise to begin a new day.


	6. Violent Delights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A valued possession goes missing from camp, and Arthur involves Maebh in a robbery he and Hosea have planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hullo, another chapter coming at y'all. It's a long boah, so hopefully you's enjoy my seriously excessive chapters. Thanks to Kimberley for leaving her thoughts on the last chapter, and to those who subscribed and left kudos! I appreciate it a whole bunch.
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Tyrants” — Catfish and the Bottlemen, “Too Dry to Cry” — Willis Earl Beal, “First Apparition” — Jed Kurzel

** _30th August, 1893, outside Winterset, Iowa_ **

_It’s been a few days since our night in the De Soto saloon, and I think everyone has finally recovered from their hangovers. Surprisingly so, our new friend, Reverend Swanson seemed to have it worse than all of us. I suppose I shouldn’t make assumptions based on his profession, but I was still surprised to see him struggling for a few days… _

_Today, Hosea and I plan on robbing that homestead in Norwalk, just outside Des Moines. It’s a big house on the northern side of town that’s apparently used by rich folk who holiday there. They’re usually rich folks who own tonnes of livestock that are getting transported across counties for selling and such. Karen heard that the current residents have been there a while because they’ve been selling and buying livestock around the area, so they’re sure to have cash on them. Hosea thinks it’s a good opportunity to make some money, and I’m more than happy to help him out. He thinks we might need another set of hands for the job just to be safe, and I think I’ll suggest we take Miss Hennigan along. She hasn’t been on any jobs since her accident at the bank, so maybe this will help her get back on her feet._

* * *

“Marston! Did you take my pocket watch?”

At the sound of William shouting across camp, Arthur looked up and shut his journal.

John sat by the campfire eatting a bowl of stew for lunch. “What?”

William stood over him, hands on his hips and his expression beyond frustrated. “_My pocket watch_ — did you take it?”

“No, why would I do that?”

“If you’re lyin’, this isn’t funny.”

“I didn’t take your damn watch, Hennigan!”

Sensing that a brawl was possibly imminent, Arthur strolled over to the pair. “What are you two yellin’ about?”

“I can’t find my pocket watch,” William explained with visible irritation. “I tore my tent apart lookin’ for it all mornin’.”

Arthur frowned and scratched at his bearded chin. “The silver one?”

He nodded. “I can’t find it anywhere. I thought Marston might’ve taken it.”

“Why the _hell_ would I do that?” John asked defensively.

“’Cause you love to do my head in.”

“Well, I didn’t take it. Just buy yourself a new one in town.”

“It’s my da’s,” William said through gritted teeth. “I can’t just _replace_ it.”

At that revelation, John shut his mouth and said no more. This was clearly something dear that the kid held close to his heart, and Arthur wasn’t about to let him get upset and anxious with its absence. Though he knew next to nothing about their parents, he gathered that this wasn’t something William could forget about. “This watch… It must mean a lot to you then, kid.”

“It does.”

“When do you last remember havin’ it?”

“I definitely had it when we went to town yesterday… I can’t remember if I had it on me last night.”

John quickly finished his stew and then got to his feet. “C’mon then. We can go into town and see can we find it. You comin’, Morgan?”

“I would, but I’ve got some work to do with Hosea.”

“I guess it’s just me and the kid then—”

“_Again_,” William cut in. “I’m only _two years_ younger than you. If I wasn’t grateful for your help, I’d eat the head off you for that comment.”

“Let’s just get goin’.”

“See,” Arthur said with a small smirk. “You two can be nice to each other!”

He watched the two young men mount up and head on out of camp to go in search of William’s most prized possession. He shook his head in mild amusement as they continued to bicker as they rode away, and headed over to one of the camp tables where Hosea was sat with a number of plans laid out before him. They greeted each other as Arthur ran his eyes over the paper sheets.

“You ready for tonight?” Hosea asked.

“Ain’t I always? It’s been a while since we robbed a homestead.”

“That it has. It’ll be a refreshin’ change. Any ideas for who you want to bring along?”

Arthur hummed as he pulled out a cigarette. “I’ve been thinkin’ maybe Maebh would be a good addition. I know she’s been lookin’ for work since recoverin’ from the bank.”

Hosea grinned at the suggestion. “Good idea, Arthur. Why don’tcha ask her to join us?”

Taking a drag off his cigarette, he looked over to the food wagon and saw said addition chopping vegetables and plopping them into the stew pot. “Maebh! You free?”

She looked up at his call and gave him a thumbs up. “_Fan nóiméad!_”

Having been around the Irish siblings for a few years, he was able to understand some of the phrases used in their native language, so he waited patiently while she washed her hands and joined them at the table.

“How’re you feelin’, Miss Maebh?” Hosea asked and looked at her from beneath the brim of his stalker.

Maebh brushed her brown hair out of her face and replied. “With regards the hangover or the fact I love fallin’ off horses?”

“The horses mostly… You feelin’ fully recovered?”

“Yeah.” She paused and then nodded at the older man. “I think I’m finally feelin’ like my old self now.”

“In that case, fancy robbin’ a homestead with us?”

Her eyes darted between them, and Arthur couldn’t help but grin at her enthusiasm. “Uh, yes please! You sure you’s want me in on this?”

“Of course we are,” Hosea answered without hesitation. “You gotta get back into earnin’ your keep and you’re exactly the woman we need on this job.”

His admission actually had her smiling ear to ear, a rare sight that Arthur hardly witnessed. Full toothed grins were usually reserved for William, but he was quite happy that he could be part of bringing such an expression to her youthful face. “Count me in then.”

Hosea gestured for her to take a seat, ensuring that the three of them were huddled together at the table, peering over some of the plans and maps Hosea had laid out. Right away, he got to filling her in about the job. He pointed to a photo Arthur had snapped of the residence. “We’re robbin’ a house up on the northern side of Norwalk. It’s used by rich folk for holidayin’ and as somewhere to stay when sellin’ livestock across counties. The railroad that swings through town brings the livestock to various markets and farms. Karen did some investigatin’, and heard that its current guests have been there a while. They’re also attendin’ a party in Des Moines tonight, so the house will be empty.”

“Damn,” Maebh sighed. “That’s perfect. How long have you’s been scoutin’ this place?”

“’Bout a week or so. We’re takin’ our time and tryin’ to play our cards right. We’re just lucky that they happen to be headin’ out of town for a bit.”

“Right. So what exactly is the plan of action?”

Hosea pulled a small map of Norwalk closer and pointed to the location where the house resided. “What we’re thinkin’ is, the folks will be gone at around eight o’clock or so. I say, we hide in the bushes here next to the house, and then, once they’ve gone, break in through the side door. I stay on lookout while you and Arthur scour the house for any valuables. It’s a big enough place, so two pairs of hands will get us in and out faster.”

“Sounds good to me, fellas. What time do we ride out?”

“It’s roughly a three hour ride, so Arthur suggested we head out at four and then grab somethin’ to eat in Norwalk. That gives you plenty of time to get yourself organised.”

“Great,” she said and got to her feet. “I’ll go get myself sorted then. Thanks for askin’ me along for the fun, lads.”

“Our pleasure, Miss Hennigan,” Arthur replied and tipped his hat as she walked away. He turned to see Hosea smirking at him. He took another puff off his cigarette and raised his brow. “What’s that look for?”

“It was nice of you to ask her along. Some people would be hesitant involvin’ her when it’s her first job since the bank. I get the impression she was a little worried ’bout not bein’ included or lettin’ people down. I think your offer just boosted her confidence.”

Arthur cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at the compliment. “It ain’t nothin’, Hosea. The kid needs to get back on her feet and it’s our job to look out for each other — you know that.”

“Oh, I do.” He began to fold up his plans and stood as he continued. “You like to play the part of the brooding gunslinger, Arthur, but you like to help people where you can.”

The man’s accusations had Arthur staring at his feet with surprising concentration. “I think you’re gettin’ a little delusional in your old age, Hosea.”

“And I think you act dumber than you really are.” Without another word, Hosea left Arthur to his discomfort and made his way to join Bessie by the fire. Arthur watched the couple for a moment, a tiny part of him envious of their connection. His mind wandered to thoughts of Mary, of Eliza and Isaac.

He had never taken compliments well — nor did he ever expect to in the future. As far as he was concerned, they were all carefully woven lies, holding no truth or accuracy to his true character. He was an outlaw, a gunslinger, a bad man by all accounts who robbed and fought to stay alive. Dutch would always insist that they were the ones truly _living_, but he feared society would never see him as anything else other than a criminal. Regardless of that, the gang’s code always justified his actions with the end goal being to help those who truly needed it. He gazed once more at Maebh in her tent as she went through her belongings.

_Huh, maybe Hosea wasn’t too far off the mark…_

* * *

Later that afternoon, John and William returned from town. Arthur knew immediately by the look of displeasure on the latter’s face that they had not managed to find his pocket watch. He was brushing Boadicea when John approached him. “Can I ask a favour, Morgan?”

“That depends on what the favour is,” he replied and looked at him suspiciously. “Whatchu want?”

“Got a piece of paper I could use?” he asked. “And a pencil? I figured you would be the right man to go to.”

“Sure I do. But you gotta tell me why you need ’em first.”

John sighed in defeat and shrugged. “I just wanna write Maebh a note.”

Arthur immediately let out a howling laugh. “Oh, I didn’t peg you for the sort to write _love letters_, Marston!”

“It ain’t no love letter!” he replied defensively, looking around camp to see if anyone had heard the outburst. “Look, I just picked up somethin’ for her in town and wanted to leave it in her tent with a note. I owed her a favour. That’s _all_.”

“Right, right,” he hushed him and reached into his satchel for his journal. He carefully tore out a page and handed it to his friend, along with a pencil. “Calm down, I’m only needlin’ ya.”

“Some pack is shy a damn joker,” John muttered and squatted by a nearby crate to write his note. Arthur returned his attention to his horse, though he noted that the familiarnoisy scribbles of lead on paper hadn’t yet begun. He glanced at the younger man, seeing him staring at the piece of paper in confusion.

Arthur let out a sigh. “You don’t know how to spell her name, do ya?”

“It’s an odd name, okay,” John replied, though his face blatantly showed his embarrassment as he looked up. “I ain’t never met someone called Maebh before and it’s not like I can speak Irish… D’you know how to spell it?’

“Sure.” Forcing himself not to smirk, Arthur nodded and gestured for him to write as he spelled it for him aloud. “It’s M-A-Y-U-V.”

John wrote it down and then looked at the page for a moment. “You sure that’s right?”

“Yeah, Marston. The U is silent.”

“It looks sorta… _weird_.”

“Well the Irish are a weird bunch.”

“Right,” he mumbled and quickly continued the rest of the note while Arthur turned back to Boadicea and tried not to laugh. “Thanks, Morgan.”

Arthur dismissed his thanks as the younger man headed back into camp after returning the pencil to its rightful owner. Not long after he’d left, Maebh and Hosea appeared, all geared up and ready to go.

The trio set off, horses moving at a comfortable trot in the humid afternoon. While the weather slowly became wetter and windier the further they travelled, they were wrapped up well for the journey. Upon arriving in Norwalk, Arthur gazed around the new town. It was small, with a population of only a couple hundred, but a homely looking saloon on its main street grabbed their attention. After braving the rotten weather, a hot meal helped to lift their spirits and the heat of the saloon’s fire assisted in drying their clothes. With eight o’clock getting closer, they mounted up once more and travelled to the outskirts of their target. Hitching the horses a safe distance away, they snuck up to a group of bushes located beside the house. The gang mates weren’t hiding for long when the couple residing within came outside, dressed to the nines and ready for an evening ofexcessive wealth and glamour. Arthur frowned as they climbed into a waiting coach and left.

“Did you see the size of that fella’s top hat?” Maebh whispered, eyes wide. “I’ve never seen somethin’ so excessive in my life!”

“We did tell you they was wealthy,” Arthur replied, watching until the coach disappeared around a bend in the road.“What did you expect?”

“Well I certainly didn’t expect _that_.”

“Right, they’re gone,” Hosea announced and lead the way as the three of them approached the building’s side door. “You know the drill — I’ll keep watch and you two grab what you can. Remember, no killin’ unless you’ve no choice.”

Arthur pulled out a pair of heavy duty pliers and quickly snapped the door’s lock. “Got it.”

Maebh nodded as she gripped the hilt of her hunting knife. “Any other residents we should look out for?”

Hosea shook his head. “Just a cat as far as our information says.”

“Grand. After you, Mr Morgan.”

Arthur led the way as requested, keeping low and entering the fancy house as quiet as he could. Hosea remained in the doorway while they found themselves in a large washroom of sorts. They moved stealthily through another door and into a long hallway.

“Okay,” Arthur said in a hushed voice. “You search down here while I look upstairs. Come up when you’re finished.”

“Yes, sir.” With a nod, she slunk off into the nearby sitting area and he scaled the excessively extravagant staircase to the landing. At the top, he noted five doors to choose from and, knowing that there wasn’t much time to consider his options, got to searching through them as quickly and quietly as possible. He grabbed whatever he could — trinkets on shelves, bottles of unopened bourbon and rum, loose change, money clips, jewellery — and stuffed it into the bag he carried over his shoulder. In a room he assumed to be an office, he searched through the desk drawers and found some more money, along with bonds in relation to livestock and a couple of business related letters. He noted details they could use for possible future robbers if needs be, and found himself grinning at the possibilities. They had really struck gold with this lead. 

After going through a study, a fancy bathroom, and a bedroom, he eventually arrived at the master bedroom. Upon opening the door, he was greeted with the sight of a ginger cat sitting atop a large bed. They stared each other down for moment, before the cat eventually looked away and returned to licking its paw.

“Hey there, kitty,” Arthur greeted the animal quietly. “Don’t mind me — just stealin’ from your owners… Not like you give a shit.”

He worked his way through the cosy room, going through drawers, wardrobes, and cupboards in search of anything useful. An extensive jewellery collection had him grinning like a moron, as well as a number of Cuban cigars. As he reached one of the bedside tables, the cat seemed to take a curious interest in him. It proceed to rub its head along his outstretched arm, purring contentedly. Seeing no harm, he gently scratched its head.

“Arthur?” he heard a low voice call from the hallway and answered to let Maebh know where he was. Upon entering the bedroom, she smiled at the sight before her. “Hadn’t pegged you for a cat person.”

“Ah, I don’t mind cats or dogs,” he admitted before returning his attention to the drawer’s contents and pointing to the right side of the room. “Help me take a look ’round. I ain’t checked that side yet.”

She got to work, rooting through a large chest of drawers for anything they could sell. 

He noted the size of her own bag and asked. “You look like you found enough.”

“Oh definitely,” she replied. “These people have way too many things. There was a whole cabinet of fancy alcohol down there.”

“Well, don’t tell Karen or the Callander boys that,” he joked. “Or we’ll never get to taste it ourselves.”

“Better safe than sorry.” There was a short silence between them before she continued speaking, though her tone had shifted slightly from its previously jesting manner. “I, eh… meant t’say to you. Thanks for askin’ me to come along on this job.”

He turned his attention away from the chest he was ransacking to look at her. She had her eyes fixed on a fancy hat before she met his gaze.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied. “I knew you’d be a helpful set of hands for it.”

“Well, thank you. It’s just…” She sighed and shoved the hat into her bag. “When you’ve been out of action for a bit, people can be hesitant ’bout involvin’ you in important work. I’m just relieved you don’t think I’m a liability, or somethin’.”

“O’course I don’t think that,” he reassured her, shutting the chest and moving to the other bedside table. “No one at camp thinks that neither.”

“You sure?”

Her tone was enough for him to understand that she was indeed a bit worried that her fellow gang members were worried about her abilities. He had to remind himself that she was still young and learning and — though he knew little of her upbringing — hadn’t been living this life anywhere near as long as he had.

“I’m sure.” He looked at her earnestly. “Look, Maebh, we all mess up sometimes. It’s part of the job. All you can do is learn from it and try not to do it again. I think you’re bein’ too harsh on yourself anyway. Keep workin’ hard and you’ll be fine.”

She restlessly picked at her palm and offered him a genuine smile, much like the one he had witnessed that morning. “Right, well, thanks for the reassurance, Arthur.”

He gave her his best attempt at a smile and went back to searching in the other bedside table he had yet to empty. Though he felt her eyes on him, he kept busy, cursing himself for being so awkward when it came to conversing with women in most regards. He hoped he at least hadn’t made himself look like a fool. Really he just hoped that she _did_ feel a bit better about her capabilities… 

He aimlessly picked up a letter within the top drawer just so he had something to stop himself from acting like an ass. He read its contents before realising that this actually _was_ something that could be exceedingly useful.

“I think I found somethin’,” he announced. “C’mere.”

Maebh approached him quickly, looking over his shoulder at the letter in his hand. “What ya got?”

“A letter,” he explained, then finished reading it, and handed it to her. “Addressed to the husband’s brother. Says somethin’ ’bout a train full of rich folk comin’ through here inSeptember.” 

She studied the parchment and her eyes narrowed in thought. “That’s about two weeks from now. Sounds like a lot of money travellin’ on one train.”

“And that railroad runs right through some mighty quiet country…”

She grinned mischievously at the suggestion. “Arthur Morgan, I think you might’ve struck gold.”

“Maebh Hennigan, I think _we_ may have. Let’s get outta here.”

Having cleared the room, they quickly headed down the stairs with their bags weighing heavily on their shoulders. The ginger cat watched them leave before returning to its relaxing slumber. 

They rounded the stairs and reached the hall just as Hosea’s hushed voice warned them from his spot by the side door. “Take cover! The husband is back!”

“Wait, what?” Maebh said, looking at the door as Hosea closed it and hid from view.

“_Awh shit—!”_ Before Arthur could comprehend any plan of action, the front door rattled as a key announced the return of the house’s occupants.

They were currently standing in the centre of the front hall, completely out in the open and resembling sitting ducks.

Without warning he grabbed Maebh by the arm and pulled her into the darkened corner beneath the staircase. He found himself shielding her frame as she was pressed into the wall, and look of surprise covering her face. At that moment, the door opened with a ominous creak. She looked up at him with wide eyes, but he merely placed a finger on his own lips. Choosing not to risk having a peak just yet in case it compromised them, Arthur placed his hands on the wall either side of her as they squeezed themselves into the safety of the darkness.

His heart pounded in his chest as he heard the husband mutter under his breath. “That woman and her damn shawl…”

Footsteps sounded on the wooden flooring and Arthur used them to judge just how near or far the man was. He could feel anxious energy seeping from Maebh and noticed how she was cautiously gripping the hilt of her sheathed knife. Ever so carefully, he peered slightly around the stairs and saw the man impatiently grabbing a scarf from the coat rack next to the door.

“I have it, darling!” he called to his wife before rolling his eyes, muttering something about her constant forgetfulness, and storming out the door. He slammed it shut, once more leaving them alone in the large house. Arthur took a step back from her and heaved out a relieved sigh, just as she did the same. He attempted to clear a lump that had formed in his throat, hyper aware that he just all but _shoved_ a young lady — _his friend no less _— into a dark corner in an unfamiliar house and forced his way into her personal space. He probably made her severely uncomfortable in the brief moment that the husband had returned.

_You goddamned idiot, Morgan,_ he thought, rightly scolding himself for being such a damn lout. _She ain’t no delicate flower, but why do you insist on bein’ such a heavy-handed fool? Thank God you had a damn bath yesterday, lest you make the girl suffer even more._

“That was close,” she mused. “We would’ve been done for if you hadn’t’ve pulled us under here.”

He was quick to wave off her thanks. “I think we’re in the clear now at least. Sorry for uh, manhandlin’ you.”

She let out an amused chuckle at his apology, causing him to frown. “You’re grand. If you hadn’t _manhandled_ me, we’d probably be fleein’ from the law right now. I’d rather you did it again instead of leavin’ me to get caught.”

“Okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

She placed a gentle hand on his bicep and gave it a reassuring squeeze before releasing him again. “For future reference, I’d much rather you reef me under a staircase than leave me to fend off some rich bloke who has an unhealthy obsession with overpriced gin.”

He chuckled awkwardly and fixed his eyes on his boots. “Duly noted, Maebh.”

Before she could offer a response, the side door swung open, revealing a worried-looking Hosea. “You two alright?”

Arthur nodded and the two quickly walked to the washroom to join him. “We’re fine, but it was damn close.”

“Sorry for not givin’ you much of a warning. I didn’t hear them comin’ back until he was walkin’ up the path.”

“It’s fine, Hosea,” Arthur reassured him. “He didn’t see nothin’ and I think we might’a gotten ourselves another job outta this too.”

“Well good work then, you two. C’mon,” Hosea urged, ushering them out the door and into the night once more. “Let’s get outta here before someone sees us.”

Arthur breathed in deep as they left the uneasy atmosphere in the house behind. The cool air filled his lungs, relaxing his heart that was still beating irregularly after their close encounter. 

_Close in every sense of the word._

He slung his bag full of valuables over Boadicea and hoisted himself into his saddle just as Hosea offered them both a compliment for a job well done and a confrontation thankfully avoided. He tried to banish any worries from his mind that he may have made his friend uncomfortable with his recklessness as they began the long ride home. He guessed he would simply have to take her word for it and ignore the nagging thoughts in his tired head.

* * *

It was late at night when Maebh arrived back at camp. John welcomed them as he stood guard, and Arthur and Hosea lead the way up the dirt path to the tranquil little encampment. The latter offered her some small words of encouragement as they hitched their horses and left them to enjoy a well-deserved rest. She thanked him for bringing her along before then thanking Arthur for having her back as always. He left her with a tip of his hat and a wish that she slept well. 

Her legs stung and ached from the lengthly ride home as she quietly entered her tent, seeing William already passed out on his bedroll. She had fully intended on following his lead when something on her pillow caught her attention. She gently placed her loot bag on the ground, stooped down, and picked up a small object wrapped in a piece of paper. She slowly unwrapped it, careful not to make too much noise, and discovered a chocolate bar. The gift was a thoughtful one and she originally assumed that William had left it for her until she read the piece of paper it had been wrapped inside:

_Mayuv, _

_I heard you _ <strike>_complaining_</strike> _saying to William about how you would ‘murder some chocolate’ this morning. Figured I would pick this up for you while I was in town today. Consider it a thank you for the bottle of bourbon you got me._

_John_

The gesture, though small, warmed her heart a little — more than she would probably admit to John’s face. He was right though, as she had been doing William’s head in about craving chocolate that morning before he realised his pocket watch had gone on the hop. It was commonplace within the gang to leave people gifts as favours and the action never failed to bring her a little bit of joy. It was the simple things in life, she supposed. She was even willing to overlook the complete bastardisation of her name because well, no one here spoke Irish other than her and her brother. At least he _tried_.

Grabbing the chocolate and a bottle of bourbon nicked from the house in Norwalk, she exited the tent in search of John. Though the entirety of camp had gone to bed, his tent was empty when she checked.

_He’s probably still on guard duty,_ she mused and proceeded to head down the path to the outskirts of camp. She spotted John sitting against a tree in the darkness, smoking a cigarette and looking rather bored. Though he clearly didn’t hold much interest with guarding camp, the carbine in his hand was still ready should anything occur.

“Mr Marston,” she greeted him, her feet crunching on the leaf-covered ground already announcing her arrival.

He gave her a nod before tossing his cigarette on the ground and snuffing it out with his foot. “Miss Hennigan. What you still doin’ up?”

She took a seat next to him. “I got your gift and wanted to say thank you.”

He shrugged it off. “I owed you for that bourbon you got me anyhow.”

“And I got you that ’cause I owed you for those drinks in De Soto.”

“I guess we’re just gonna keep owin’ each other shit then.”

She popped open the bottle of whiskey before agreeing. “I guess you’re right. Drink?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he said, taking a large swig from the bottle before handing it back to her. “That’s the stuff.”

She followed his lead and drank, enjoying how the liquid warmed her up and burned her throat in the most pleasurably of ways. “We nicked this from the homestead in Norwalk. Place was _swimmin’_ in drink.”

“So it went well, I’m assumin’?”

“Very.” She unwrapped her chocolate bar and plopped a square into her mouth before offering him one too. “We have lots to sell and lots to give away. Arthur found some info ’bout a train too that looks promisin’.”

He took the square and gave her a curious look. “A train?”

“Yeah, full of rich fellas passin’ through some quiet country. It’s askin’ to be robbed really.”

“Can I have in on that?” he asked, eyes wide at the prospects.

“I’m sure Dutch’ll want you in on it anyway, Marston, but I’ll put in a word anyway.”

“Consider it a thank you for the chocolate,” he joked and took the whiskey to drink some more. “_You_ owe _me_ now.”

“Ah, while we’re on the subject of that.” She lowered her voice and leaned in as if she had a precious secret to share with him. John took the bait and met her halfway. “M-A-E-B-H.”

He blinked in confusion. “What’s that?”

“How you spell my name. I’ll give you credit for tryin’ anyway.”

“For Christ _sakes_...” John frowned and wiped a hand over his flushing face. “I’m gonna kill Morgan.”

Putting the two together, Maebh started to laugh. “I should’ve known he was involved in this. That makes it even funnier.”

“You said B-H?” he grumbled, looking baffled. “How does that even _work?”_

“It makes a V sound in Irish,” she explained, unable to stop smirking at his amusing confusion. “If you think that’s difficult, you’re in for a shock with some of the other words. I feel like you should understand this as a Scot.”

He looked back at her with an equally sour and embarrassed expression before suddenly his eyes drifted over her head. They settled on something that caused him to start. He immediately heaved himself upwards, pulling her up too, and shoved her behind him.

“Who’s there?” he called out into the darkness, the repeater now aimed at something unseen in the distance. 

Baffled, Maebh followed his line of sight and finally laid eyes on that which had startled him.

“You see him?” he questioned her under his breath. “Up on the ridge?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I see him.”

Up on the small ridge that circled around part of the camp’s outskirts stood a lone figure. It stood motionless, standing over them without offering a name or an explanation of why the hell it was watching them. The light of the moon shone over the tall shape, who she assumed to be a man based on its stature, but the darkness made it impossible to accurately identify it beyond being human. It was rare that she felt intimidated by others, but a cool shiver ran up her spine at the sight of this stranger. Her hand shook as it hovered over her revolver’s grip.

As the silence between them stretched out, John’s husky voice broke it once more. “Identify yourself, mister, or I’ll shoot!”

She could feel him staring at them, apparently unfazed by the threats.

“Go wake Dutch,” John ordered her, not taking his eyes off the apparition. “Tell him we got some son-of-a-bitch who thinks he’s funny.”

“Will you be alright?” she asked, already backing away down the path.

“Yeah, just go!”

Without another word, she sprinted back to camp. Her heavy footfalls pounding on the grass while she hoped Marston could handle the mysterious man alone. She called out Dutch’s name, rousing half the camp from their slumber with her unconventional arrival. 

Outside of said man’s tent, she caught her breath. “Dutch, we’ve got a _situation_.”

Suddenly, the tent’s flap pulled back and a half asleep Dutch appeared before her, wearing a pair of pants over his union suit. “What is it?”

“There’s some fella wanderin’ ’round outside camp,” she quickly elaborated as Hosea and Miss Grimshaw appeared with their guns in-hand. “Marston has a gun on him, but he won’t leave or announce himself. He told me to come get you.”

The more she spoke, the firmer Dutch’s expression became. He quickly wrapped a large arm around her shoulder and offered some comforting words. “Alright, Miss Hennigan. You did right to come wake me up.”

At that, Arthur, William, and Davey joined them and the former asked with a tired voice. “What’s all the hollerin’?”

“We got someone snootin’ ’round outside camp,” Dutch said before addressing Maebh once more. “Did you get a look at him?”

“I didn’t ’cause he was standin’ on the ridge and hidden in the low light. Ah Jesus, Dutch, it’s really bleedin’ _odd_. He was just standin’ there. Didn’t say anythin’ or do anythin’. He was like a damn _ghost_.”

Dutch’s brow furrowed deeper. “If this son-of-a-bitch thinks he’s bein’ funny, he’s in for a rude awakenin’. I ain’t got no time for jokers who wanna intimidate my family. Hosea, Arthur, you come with me while we confront this visiter. William, Maebh, and Davey, you three guard camp and wait for us to come back. We clear?”

With unanimous agreement, Dutch quickly shoved on his boots, grabbed his revolver from his bedside table, and stooped back out into the night air. Before he got very far — barely even passed his tent in all honesty — the usual crunch as his boots met grass was interrupted with an odd metal clank. He halted in his steps, the others pausing with him. Maebh eyed him, fully expecting for him to simply ignore what he had stood on and continue with the pressing task at hand.

“Dutch?” Hosea urged him gently, but the man didn’t budge from staring at his feet. He bent down slowly and picked up what which he found in the grass. His silence was deafening, but enough for Maebh to know that whatever he found had left him somewhat troubled.

“This wasn’t here when I went to sleep,” he muttered, staring at the object shielded within his large palm. “I would’ve seen it.” He looked at William and quietly asked. “Did you put this here, son?”

“Put _what_, Dutch?” William asked, visibly perplexed. “Why would I leave somethin’ outside your tent in the middle of the night?”

“Did one o’you leave this here?”

“No one left anythin’ there.”

His reply was met with silence and Maebh gave Arthur a skeptical look before the man repeated his name, just as a silver chain fell from Dutch’s hand, dangling and shimmering in the dim moonlight.

William gave a start, already knowing what he had found before Dutch held up his hand, revealing a much-sought after missing pocket watch.


	7. The Luck of the Rebels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and co begin to plan the train heist, and the Hennigans bump into a familiar face from their past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howiyas! I wanted to say massive thank you to the influx of comments received on the last chapter. It is much appreciated and it was a pleasure to read your thoughts with regards all the dramatic goings on in the Van der Linde gang. I hope you's enjoy this next chapter, which also contains some more of the Irish language as a thank you to fellow Irish-pal hiberniaa. I hope you enjoy more of our lovely siblings ag caint as Gaeilge, agus go raibh míle maith agat, mo chara! ;)
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Let Me In, Heathcliff” — Ruth Barrett, “Mo Ghile Mear (with Sting)” — The Chieftains, “The Rebel Soldier” — Craig Duncan, “We Hear Them Talking” — General Vibe

Maebh found herself waiting uneasily with William and Davey in camp, eyes focused on the trail down which their companions had disappeared. While Davey asked her questions about what the hell her and John had seen, William remained eerily quiet, attention seemingly drifting between the visitor and the pocket watch in his hand.

She eyed him up and down, already knowing that his mind was going a mile a minute. “When did you lose the watch again?”

“Yesterday or last night,” he murmured, studying his possession carefully. “I’m not sure which.”

“Dutch didn’t break it, did he?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I think he just caught the edge of it with his foot, but it’s still tickin’ away.” He paused and then shoved it into the pocket of his jacket. When he spoke again, his voice was accompanied by a slight growl, unnerved with the unusual developments. “I definitely would’ve noticed had it been dropped outside his tent.”

“And if not you,” Davey began, eying the tree line. “One of _us_ would’a noticed if it’s been missin’ that long.”

Though they were each clearly coming to the same conclusion, none of them seemingly wanted to say it aloud. Maebh sighed and quickly lit a cigarette, opting for any sort of distraction from the uneasy truth — someone had most certainly placed William’s watch outside Dutch’s tent. They _wanted_ it to be found. And, lo and behold, on the same night when John spots a ropey figure sneaking around outside camp.

Hearing footsteps coming down the path, Maebh raised her head to see Dutch and Hosea returning. If their scowls were anything to go by, the probably didn’t find the person who was messing with them.

“You catch that fucker?” Davey asked, ever the optimist.

“No,” Dutch answered. “He was gone before we even arrived, but John was pretty insistent ’bout what he and Maebh saw. Arthur is gonna stay with him for the rest of the night, as am I, just in case that fool comes back.” His eyes drifted to William, who still wore a frown, deeply accentuating the scar running through his brow. “I believe you when you say you didn’t leave your watch there, William. It ain’t like you.”

“One of us would’ve noticed the watch sittin’ there for an entire day,” Maebh added, standing close to her sibling. “Especially if we’re always walkin’ in and out.”

“Right you are, Miss Hennigan. It doesn’t add up.”

Miss Grimshaw, who took it upon herself to explain to the other confused gang members what exactly was going on and why their sleep had been interrupted, returned with a double barrel shotgun in hand. “What’s the plan, Dutch?”

“Arthur, John, and myself are gonna stay on watch for the night while the rest of you get some sleep. It’s been a long evenin’.”

“You need an extra gun?”

“Sure, if you’re willin’. Ain’t no harm in it, I guess. But four is enough. Off to bed with the rest of ya.”

Had the events of that night not transpired, Maebh would have been excited to finally rest her eyes after a long and tasking day. And yet, when she went to her tent, she found it difficult to drift into sleep with the knowledge that someone had somehow invaded the only place in America where she and her brother felt safe. At least she could have some solace with him by her side. 

* * *

** _3rd September, 1893, outside Winterset, Iowa_ **

_We haven’t seen hide nor tail of our camp intruder since Maebh and John’s run in outside camp. Though four of us remained on guard duty that night, he never came back, nor did he come back any night after that. There’s a tense atmosphere around camp, and while he is usually resilient, young William seems angry that someone could invade his personal space and steal something he held so dear. He is more inclined to go on guard duty now, and volunteers for anything that involves keeping an eye on camp. Probably wants to murder the bastard himself before anyone gets a hand in..._

_The train heist couldn’t be coming at a better time. Dutch seemed excited at the prospect of another good take and, after selling off some of the stolen goods from that homestead to a poor community outside Des Moines, more money couldn’t come at a better time. We could do with some new supplies, and god knows Pearson could do with some fresh meat or herbs or _ _something_ _. He wants me and Maebh to lead with this one considering Hosea is taking another lead and Bessie has come down with something. We’ve also brought in William and Marston for the job, with Karen on standby incase we need an extra gun to be on the safe side. It seems promising, and we could use some good news._

_While John does some investigating about a plan of action and the local law, I’ll be heading over to Saint Charles to have a word with a friend of Trelawny’s about that train. After that, we need to discuss how we plan and stopping the thing without hurting any innocent folks…_

* * *

Shutting his journal, Arthur yawned and got to his feet. As he put his hat on and strolled out into camp, Dutch approached. “Good mornin’, Arthur.”

“Mornin’, Dutch,” he replied with a little nod. “You seem in a good mood this mornin’.”

“That’s because it is a fine mornin’, son.” He waved a long arm around camp, the gang working away in the bright and warm day. “A fine mornin’!”

“Should be nice to ride to Saint Charles in this,” Arthur added, taking an apple out of his satchel. “After the weather we’ve had lately.”

Dutch began to walk with him over to the stew pot where Susan and Karen were already standing drinking their morning coffee. The two men poured their own cups as Dutch continued on. “I actually wanted to talk to you ’bout that. I’d like you to bring the two Hennigans along with you.”

“How come?”

“I think the young feller needs to get out for a bit,” Dutch elaborated. “He’s been on edge ever since his pocket watch was found — we all have. He needs a good distraction. And Miss Maebh, well, you know they’re attached at the hip.”

Arthur nodded his head in agreement, munching away on the fruit. “Sure, Dutch. What about Marston?”

“Everyone else is workin’, so I’ll go over any information he gathers. I got the Callander boys out on a lead with Karen, and Hosea is lookin’ into the next place we can move to if we need it. He’d rather stay here with Bessie on account’a her bein’ a lil sick.”

Arthur had a sup of his coffee and asked. “You got any plans today?”

“Bar helpin’ John, I’ve a woman I need to visit.”

Arthur couldn’t help but smirk at his mentor. “That girl from the saloon? You don’t waste time.”

“You gotta live life to the fullest, Mr Morgan. That and considerin’ we haven’t seen nothin’ ’bout that stranger since the other night, I don’t mind leavin’ camp for a few hours. Miss Grimshaw said she’d rather stay here to keep an eye out too, which gives me a chance to woo the lovely Annabelle.”

“Then you might as well live life to the fullest,” Arthur chortled, mirroring his previous words. The pair chatted casually over their coffee for a while more before Arthur went off to find the Hennigans. At Swanson’s suggestion, he found them a little while down stream, fishing together in an attempt to replenish food supplies. They sent him some enthusiastic greetings as he approached.

“Are you finally takin’ me up on my fishin’ offer, Arthur?” Maebh asked. “Or you here for somethin’ else?”

“Here for work,” he explained, noticing how they already had a few fish caught in a bag sitting on the shoreline. “If you two wanna get outta camp for the day.”

William’s brow piqued. “I think you know the answer to that.”

“Is this ’bout the train?” Maebh replied.

“Oh, then we’re definitely comin’ with you!”

Arthur waved them after him. “Well c’mon then. Drop those fish off at Pearson’s wagon but bring one or two along — we can eat ’em on the way to Saint Charles. We mount up in ten.”

The siblings obliged and William slung the bag over his wide shoulders. With the fish delivered to a satisfied cook, the siblings soon met Arthur by the horses with some supplies for the day packed and ready for the short trip. It was thankfully quicker than the previous one Arthur and Maebh had ventured on with Hosea. They took a break on the outskirts of town to cook up some of their earlier catch. As they always were when in the other’s company, the siblings seemed in high spirits, joking and telling Arthur a story about learning how to fish as children.

“Da was adamant that we learn how to fish,” Maebh continued on as she ate the last bite of crispy fish meat. “Says we need’ta learn how to fend for ourselves and all that, right? So usually William takes to this stuff like a fish outta water — always got on with horses, always did great breakin’ ’em, was a natural at huntin’ and skinnin’ — but for some reason, this was another story. Da is teachin’ us how to cast and I do okay — it lands in the water as far as my little arms can send it. But William wants to cast his even _further_. So he whips it back as hard as he can, and flings it forward. We look up, only to see Da’s hat that he left sitting with our gear caught on the end of the line and goin’ flyin’ into the lake. Every time we went fishin’ after that, he would clutch his hat on top of his head and stand as far away from William as possible.”

The story gave Arthur a good-natured chuckle. “Well now I know where you two get your sense of humour from.”

“Our parents were both pretty sarcastic,”William agreed. “As is most of Ireland, I’d say.”

“How did you end up in America?” he asked with curiosity. “From how y’all talk about Ireland, it’s obvious you miss it.”

William threw his sister a glance before she answered. “The British didn’t exactly make it an easy place to live. There was fightin’ left and right so our parents thought it’d be easier to raise us here.”

“I ain’t gonna pretend like I know a lot ’bout Irish history, but I get the impression y’all ain’t fond of the English.”

“We don’t dislike _all_ of ’em,” William added, though his tone was severe. “But their soldiers have been killin’ our people for centuries. There were people campaignin’ for home rule before we left, and when the bill didn’t pass, our parents left with us on a boat bound for New York.”

Arthur nodded along, eager to hear more of their time back home. Bar the usual exclamations about _‘the feckin’ Brits’_, he rarely managed to get any information involving their mother and father. He knew nothing of Home Rule, he knew nothing of the British, but why would he? The only bit of education he received from the Hennigans was the fact the Potato Famine wasn’t technically a _famine_…

“So what, the Irish was tryin’ to rule themselves instead of havin’ the British rule them?” Arthur scratched at his chin in thought. “Seems like a good thing to fight for.”

“Course it was,” William agreed. “You lot had your own war with them too, sure.”

“I gather from your passion that your folks were patriots too?”

There was a short silence around the campfire and for a moment Arthur was worried he had overstepped with an apparently simple question. While Maebh remained silent on the subject, William replied carefully. “Yeah, they were a pretty patriotic pair if I’m honest.”

At that, the conversation dwindled and Arthur seized the moment to get to his feet. “We should, uh, pack up and head into town.”

The brother and sister followed his lead, quickly helping him put everything away and the trio were soon making their way into Saint Charles. 

Leaving their horses hitched outside the local post office, Arthur addressed them both. “Okay, so from what Trelawny told us, the clerk who works behind the desk in there is crooked for the right price. We’ll go in and have a chat with him but you two leave the talkin’ to me.”

“You gonna charm him, Morgan?” William asked as they strolled towards the building.

“I ain’t no charmer, but I sure as hell know how to be a scary son-of-a-bitch.”

As they scaled the wooden steps up to the post office’s front door, Arthur spotted a man sitting on a bench outside with his eyes trained on them. At first, this older man made him wary, but as the stranger folded up the newspaper he had been reading, a wide smile covered his plump face.

“William Hennigan?” the man said, his eyes wide in astonishment. “_Tusa atá ann nó a bhfuil mé ag taibhreamh?_ _ ” _

Arthur was dumbfounded and, before he could offer to cover up their identities, William stopped in his tracks and asked his own question. “_An tUasal Ó Murchú?”_

“_Bhí a fhios agam gur tusa a bhí ann!”_ he said delightedly as William approached him for a friendly handshake. Only then did he notice the woman in their company. “_Agus tá Iníon Maebh anseo freisin!”_

“_Buíochas le Dia,_” Maebh exclaimed and offered the old man a warm hug. “_Shíl mé nach bhfeicfinn tú arís. Conas atá tú?”_

“_Táim ar fónamh, táim ar fónamh!” _

Arthur stood awkwardly on the sidelines as an apparent reunion took place with an old Irish friend. He watched his gang-mates, unsure as to whether he should introduce himself or leave them to a private exchange. While he bided his time, he looked this new man up and down. By his clothing, Arthur assumed he was a trader or farmer of sorts. He looked old enough — perhaps older that Dutch — with his greying hair and beard, and a heavyset frame. He was a big man in both weight and height; the kind of person William usually would have called a _‘big, mean-lookin’ bollocks’_. Despite the fact he looked as though he could squash a man by sitting on him, the smile he wore seemed to never fade as he greeted the siblings and rambled on excitedly in their native tongue.

As Arthur looked around helplessly, Maebh suddenly remembered his existence and placed a hand on his arm. “Ah, Jesus, _tá brón orm, an tUasal Ó Murchú. _This is our friend, Arthur Morgan. Arthur this is an old friend of ours from Wisconsin, Mícheál Ó Murchú._”_

Using what little Irish he had managed to remember, Arthur shook Mícheál's hand and offered him an unsteady greeting. “_Dia duit, Mícheál._”

Maebh appeared somewhat surprised while Mícheál let out a laugh. “_Dia is Muire dhuit, Arthur. An bhfuil Gaeilge agat?”_

Arthur paused for a second before shaking his head with a laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid that’s all the Irish I got.”

“When did ye learn that?” Maebh asked, smiling broadly.

“Picked it up from listenin’ to you two. It’s ’bout all I could manage.”

“Sure it’s better than nothin’!” Mícheál replied in an accent almost as thick as his frame. “Sure look, a friend of the Hennigan kids is a friend of mine.”

“Mícheál was our old neighbour back in Wisconsin,” Maebh elaborated, smiling at the memory. “We met him on the boat over here. Owned a ranch up the way with his wife and son.”

“Ah,” Arthur drawled. “So you were tryin’ to get away from the English too?”

“Too fuckin’ right I was! That shower o’bastards took my land and didn’t they only go and reject another Home Rule bill yesterday.”

“I saw,” William grumbled with his arms folded across his chest. “All those governments are the same. Too busy steppin’ all over common folk to sort out any messes.”

“Usually the government are the ones causing ’em,” Arthur offered. “Though I can only speak for the American government in that regard.”

Mícheál gave him a friendly but hefty clap on the shoulder. “Here, I’m sure these youngins have eat your ear off enough that you know all ’bout _na Sasanaigh_ back in _Éire_.”

“They may’ve mentioned it once or twice,” Arthur joked. “It’s been an educational experience.”

“Those kinda people have a lot to answer for” he growled before his expression turned solemn. The air shifted and Arthur had been confused with the sudden tension as Mícheál placed a hand on William’s shoulder. “I thought you too had been killed after I heard what happened to your dad. It was only when I saw the wanted posters did I know you’s had survived.”

Arthur shifted on his feet, unable to contain his interest in the change of conversation as the old friends caught up. Maebh glanced at him uneasily and he took that as a queue to take a few steps back. Though he gave them a little bit of privacy, he still heard the conversation as it continued on in their native tongue.

“_Níor thug siad rogha dúinn, Mícheál,_” Maebh was saying in a hushed whisper. “_Fágadh amhail marbh muid._”

“_Tá a fhios 'am,_” Mícheál replied, sounding like he was trying to calm her. “_Ní raibh mé ag súil le haon rud níos fearr . A leithéid de sprionlóir!”_

“_Ní féidir le duine ar bith a fháil amach cá bhfuilimid,_” William chimed in. “_Táimid ceart go leor, ach má fhaigheann an rialtas amach cá bhfuilimid, déanfar muid a mharú._”

Arthur looked at them over his shoulder as Mícheál nodded firmly. “_Is binn béal ina thost!”_

“Sorry to interrupt,” Arthur cut in before pointing to the post office. “I’ll head inside and get that letter sorted while you three catch up, alright?”

“Sure thing, Arthur,” Maebh replied with a grateful smile. “Take your time.”

And take his time he did.

The clerk was, as Trelawny promised, more than happy to provide some information in exchange for a few dollars. He casually scribbled down the trains exact course and its scheduled times between stops. Thankfully, the lead became more and more promising with each new piece of information gathered. Sometimes these things turned out to be dead ends and he had certainly experienced his fair share of those. With a nod to the clerk, Arthur headed back into the cool morning air and saw that his companions still stood talking with the old man. Hugs were shared, by the looks of things they were parting ways. He met Maebh’s gaze and gave her a shrug, hoping that she understood his hesitance to interrupt. While her green eyes studied him intently, she held out delicate a hand to him, a gesture he took as a signal to return to the group. He awkwardly held her small hand in his and allowed her to gently pull him back into the fold. Despite the initial contact, he hadn’t been prepared for her to loop her arm around his in an affectionate manner.

“Thanks for that, Mícheál,” she said, switching back to a language he could understand. “You always were a good man.”

The old Irish man grinned beneath his thick white beard as he fitted a flat cap on to his head. “You’s two know more than anyone that this world can be a cruel one. We have to stick together if you want to make it outta here alive, isn’t that right, Mr. Morgan?”

“It sure is, Mr. Ó Murchú,” he replied, hoping that he hadn’t butchered the man’s last name with his inexperienced tongue. “You gotta be loyal to what matters.”

“You’s found yourselves a fine friend here, _pháistí_. A feckin’ fine friend indeed. Take care of each other and you know where I am if you’s need me.”

They exchanged their goodbyes, and soon Mícheál was ascending his wagon and rolling away with a casual wave. Arthur watched him go, noting the slightly despondent look on the siblings’ faces. “Y’all alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Maebh answered, still hanging on to his arm. “We’re good.”

“Guess we weren’t expectin’ to see him ’round here,” William offered measuredly, eyes fixed on the now distant figure. “It’s been four years since the last time.”

Unwilling to push them to talk about it if they weren’t comfortable, Arthur gave Maebh’s arm a gentle tug. “How ’bout we head back to camp then? I got all the information we need for the train.”

The siblings readily agreed, though their demeanours were far more reserved than they had previously been on arrival. He walked to their horses, half expecting for Maebh to release her hold on his arm, but instead she casually strolled arm in arm with him. The intimate gesture made his cheeks flush but he kept his mouth shut, sure that if she was uncomfortable she would have no problem with telling him to go away. As they reached her mount, Arthur released her arm and offered her a helping hand up on to Dullahan’s back. He knew she could get up on her own — this wasn’t something he doubted — but after escorting her along, it seemed like the polite thing to do. As she took the hand he offered in hers, he swallowed thickly and helped to hoist her upwards. Once she was safely seated, he hurried himself to his own saddle and kept his gaze on anything but her. Thankfully, it seemed like her thoughts were focused on other things. Unfortunately, he couldn’t help but focus his on the words Mícheál had uttered that he did manage to understand. He had, not by their choice, discovered some small things about Maebh and William’s upbringing that they clearly didn’t want anyone at camp knowing. At first he was uncertain as to whether he should be suspicious or worried. He had his own secrets for his own reasons, so maybe he shouldn’t be surprised that they too held untold stories close to their young hearts.

Mícheál had been correct about one thing — the world was a cruel, cruel place, one in which everyone seemed to have pasts that haunted them or hidden skeletons they could never forget. 

They rode back to camp in a mostly silent and somber atmosphere, unsaid words and admissions held on tied tongues. In saying so little, they had said a lot. Arthur could only hope that some day they would trust him enough to share their undeserved burdens through honest conversation. Then, perhaps, he too could share his own.

* * *

Back at camp, Maebh was leading Dullahan along to graze with the other horses. Their trip to Saint Charles had gone well with regards the intention of gathering information. The run in with a ghost from their past, however, was unexpected. Still, she didn’t have much time to ponder the encounter before Dutch had called the three of them over to talk details.

Inside Dutch’s tent, John Marston sat over a bunch of papers, clearly in deep thought.

“Don’t think too hard there, Marston,” William said as he arrived. “Your brain ain’t used to that shite. It’ll explode if you push it too hard.”

“Fuck off, Hennigan,” John replied gruffly, clearly unamused. “Do you ever shut up?”

William paused, letting the silence hang. “Are you flirtin’ with me?”

Arthur let out a laugh while John nearly snapped the pencil he was clutching tightly. Dutch, sensing the ensuing argument, interrupted. “John, why don’t you update them on our plan before a fight breaks out in my tent?”

“Right.” He cleared his throat and began to address the group. “We’ve been thinkin’ ’bout how we’re gonna actually go about robbin’ this train. We was throwin’ some ideas together when I suggested the best way to go ’bout it would be to get ourselves on that train.”

“Whatchu mean _‘on it’?”_ Arthur asked with a thoughtful expression.

“We goin’ t’jump it?” Maebh added.

John shook his head. “We’re goin’ as passengers.”

“Hold on. You want _us_—” She quickly gestured between the four of them. “—to go as passengers on a train full of rich lads?_ Us?”_

“Well… _yeah_.”

“We don’t exactly look like high caliber posh people, now do we?”

William scoffed. “Speak for yourself.”

“All we need to do is get cleaned up and buy some fancy clothes,” John insisted. “With Trelawny’s help we can tickets off that crooked clerk you met today and hop on the train before it heads through the quiet spot. Then, once it passes through there, we’ll start the robbery. We’ll have two in the first carriage and one at the back. One of us is goin’ to go dressed as a worker so they can get to the driver and force him to stop the train. This way, we got everythin’ covered. Get in, stop the train, rob ’em, and get out.”

“So what you’re sayin’,” William began slowly. “Is that we’re goin’ in undercover and we have’ta pretend to be snooty rich pricks? Like actors?”

“Basically, yeah.”

In a rare show of enthusiasm, the young Irishman clapped his hands. “Right, I’m in.”

“That’s actually not a half bad idea, Marston,” Arthur admitted, looking happy with the day’s work. “You’re gonna need a serious bath though.”

“You’ll all need serious baths if you’re gonna pass for those kinda rich bastards,” Dutch cut in, giving John a supportive squeeze of the shoulder. “You all did great work today — really great work — but we’ll get into specifics later. Go get somethin’ to eat and rest your feet awhile; you all earned it.”

Maebh was soon sitting at the campfire with William, forcing herself to eat Pearson’s leftover fish stew. They had been visibly uneasy since their encounter with Mícheál. He was the first person they had seen from their old life in Wisconsin and they were hardly expecting to see him in a different state altogether. He was nice enough to let them know where his new homestead resided outside Saint Charles and, while she was uncertain about visiting, William seemed fond of the idea. Perhaps at some point they would pay him a call for old time sake. He had always been a good man. Even their father used to trust him enough to take care of her and William when he wasn’t around.

Still, Arthur being there was an unfortunate circumstance she wished could have been avoided. What she and her brother had done was something she hoped he would never discover. Yes, they were outlaws and yes, they had probably done bad things themselves, but this was something that could bring more trouble on to the gang than necessary. As long as they never returned to Wisconsin, perhaps the confession could be avoided. The pressure that remained on her shoulders was constricting and weighed heavier today once Arthur had heard things she wished he hadn’t. She could only assume that William felt the same way.

Noting that the Reverend was sitting nearby, flicking through his bible, Maebh muttered to her brother in their native tongue. “Are you alright after earlier?”

He looked at her and replied in an even tone. “I suppose. It’s a bit of a weird one. It was nice to see Mr Ó Murchú, but I’m worried Arthur might be suspicious ’bout what he heard.”

“Me too,” she admitted. “It definitely would’ve sounded ropey to him.” She paused, finishing the last mouthful of her meal and placing the bowl and spoon on the ground. “I know it’s probably a stupid idea, bu I wish we could just, I dunno, talk to someone ’bout it.”

“That’s not stupid. It’d be nice if we could considerin’ it’s a weight that’s constantly there whenever Dutch talks ’bout loyalty…”

“If you had to tell one of ’em, who would it be?”

William’s brow furrowed, his deep scar highlighted in the light of the fire. “Hosea, Dutch, or Arthur if I’m honest. You?”

“I’d be happy to talk to Hosea or Dutch ’bout it, but not Arthur.” When he gave her a look of scepticism, she shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t _trust_ him, but I’d be more worried ’bout him not trustin’ us as far as he could throw us afterwards. Whereas Dutch or Hosea might give us the benefit of the doubt.”

“Right, right,” William mumbled in understanding before releasing a sigh. “I get that. He’s been very good to us. I’d hate to see him put off by all those goings on.”

“Arthur is a good man to have on your side, so I aim to do very little in life to upset him. Y’know who might be good to talk to as well? Mrs Matthews.”

The idea grabbed William’s full attention. He wiped his beard and mouth with the back of his hand and dumped his bowl inside hers. “That’s actually a good shout.”

Mrs Matthews and Miss Grimshaw were definitely the matriarchs of the camp. They were always there to help if someone came back from a job injured, and always there to scold someone for not pulling their weight. While Miss Grimshaw was the type of person to blow off the kneecaps of someone who threatened you, Mrs Matthews was the type to embrace you afterwards and say you’ll be alright. They had both taken care of Maebh after the robbery in Winterset and while William was always there to help, sometimes friends with a more feminine touch were greatly needed. If there was someone she felt wouldn’t judge them, it was Bessie Matthews.

“Might be worth chattin’ to her and Hosea,” she suggested, nodding to the pair sitting off in their tent. “We don’t even have to get into specifics if we don’t want’a.”

After a moment’s contemplation, William clasped his hands together. “Suppose it’s worth a shot.”

He got to his feet and offered her a hand up. After leaving their bowls by the wagon, the pair strolled over to the tent where the older couple sat together, Hosea grounding up some herbs in a mortar while his wife read a book. She had a thick woven blanket wrapped around her shoulders, so Maebh assumed she was still feeling a tad under the weather.

“Knock, knock,” she said casually and waited outside. “Evenin’.”

Hosea looked up as they announced themselves and offered them a warm smile. “Ah, my favourite Fenian rebels.”

“Mind if we come in? Hopefully we’re not disturbin’ you’s.”

“Not at all! C’mon, take a seat.”

Maebh and William took him up on his offer, sitting themselves beside the laid out bedrolls. William eyed the older woman with concern. “How’re you feelin’, Mrs Matthews?”

“Not so bad,” she replied, sitting up sightly so that she could properly chat. “Feeling a little better than I did this mornin’.”

“Nothin’ a little ginseng can’t fix,” Hosea added, gesturing to the leaves he was grinding up. “This stuff is great when you’re under the weather. If you two ever happen upon some of it in your travels, bring it to me and I’ll show you how to make some health cures.”

“Cheers, Hosea,” William replied gratefully, looking at the mixture. “I’ll be sure to pass it on if I find some.”

“How did you two get on in Saint Charles today?”

William remained silent and allowed Maebh to take the lead with this one. “Good. We got all the information we needed from the clerk and it looks like Marston came up with some decent ideas for the heist while we were gone.”

“So it was a productive day all around then,” Bessie said with an encouraging smile. “I’m sure it’ll go off without a hitch.”

“Hopefully, yeah.”

“What brings you two to our tent, then?”

Keeping a close eye on her brother, Maebh answered. “We were actually wonderin’ if we could talk to you’s a’bout somethin’ more personal...”

Though the statement would probably bring a small sense of anxiety to most people, Mrs Matthews only offered an encouraging smile. “Of course. You know that you two can always come to us about anythin’, m’dear.”

“I dunno,” Maebh muttered. “We weren’t sure if we could come to _any_ of you’s ’bout this.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Hosea said assuredly. “You two are in a gang fulla outlaws and orphans and folk who ain’t known nothin’ other than how to load a gun.”

“We understand that everyone probably has their own skeletons in their closet,” William said, adding his own two cents. “But ours won’t do us any favours.”

Bessie placed her hand over his in a comforting manner. “If it’s somethin’ weighin’ down on you both this much, then I’d rather you let it out. A guarantee you’ll feel better for it.”

“And we won’t see you as any different,” Hosea agreed, encouraging the discussion. “We’ll listen and help however we can. “Don’t you remember how Dutch and I met in the first place? A pair of hucksters tryin’ to rob each other, caught red handed, and y’know what we did? We laughed and shook hands.”

“And are you forgettin’ how they found Arthur and John?” Bessie said. “John about to be hanged for robbin’ a homestead and Arthur a petty criminal who would have no problem cavin’ your head in. Both only kids, but we took ’em in and tried to help. John had already murdered a man when he was only eleven years old. Do you really think we’re gonna look at you two any different?”

“All I know is,” Hosea began, mirroring his wife’s positivity. “That in the three years since you’ve joined this gang, you’ve both pulled your weight and done whatever you could to help the cause. You’ve no problem volunteerin’ for jobs or huntin’ to keep supplies up, and the bond you two share has only strengthened as time passed. You’ve both gelled right into the group and made friends that you trust to have your back. Regardless of what you tell us, we ain’t gonna suddenly turn ’round and erase the good years we’ve had.”

“He really has a way with words, don’t he?” Bessie chuckled and looked fondly at her husband.

Maebh looked to William, whose eyes conveyed the comfort he felt with regards telling the couple what they had done to wind up in such an unfavourable situation. With his permission, she took a deep breath and began telling their story.

Together, under the watchful gaze of two helpful elders, the Hennigans told all about their past discretions and how they came to be found robbing a risky stage in the middle of Wisconsin. Across camp, another pair of eyes were studying the youths carefully. Arthur sat atop his bunk, journal in hand and pencil scribbling away in an attempt to capture the scene. Ever the artist, he studied their expressions so that he could try to recreate the different emotions crossing their faces with lead on paper. He was unsure as to what the conversation had been about, but he could tell from the outside that it was something rousing a level of seriousness between the siblings. If he was to take a guess, it might have been about the unexpected encounter earlier that day.

Unable to do much else about it, Arthur sat and he drew, spending more time on capturing Maebh than the others. With careful strokes, he placed her profile on the page. Her eyes came next, then her thin nose, and rapidly moving lips. He didn’t notice how much time he’d spent on her before moving on to the others, but it seemed necessary. He felt that words weren’t enough to capture the range of emotions being expressed within the tent and the apparent story he couldn’t hear being shared. The beauty of the moment was something he wished to see and relive whenever he flicked through the pages of his journal. Whatever they had been through, he dearly wished to capture it. 

Arthur took care in recreating her, more than he ever realised in the moment.


	8. A Blight for the Ages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josiah Trelawny returns to the Van der Linde gang with supplies for the train heist, and Maebh quietly contemplates where Arthur goes on his lengthly trips away from camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for y'all to (hopefully) enjoy. It is a little bit lacking in Arthur but he'll be back in the next one, I promise! Also, oh my, we made it to 500 hits! That is a number I never thought we'd get to, considering I'm just shook people are reading this at all haha As always, thank you to the readers/kudos givers/commenters/etc. You's make my day, fellers.
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Little Lies” — Fleetwood Mac, “My Sweet Love Ain’t Around”— Hank Williams, “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” — Nirvana

** _5th September, 1893, outside Winterset, Iowa_ **

_A couple of days have passed since Maebh, William, and I headed into Saint Charles to get information for the train, and a couple days since they bumped into an old friend. I enquired after Mícheál (and how to spell his name) this morning over coffee. According to Maebh, they met him on the ship that brought them to America. His land was bought out by the British and he was given the choice to either leave or be shot dead. It’s not like he had much of an option. After meeting on the ship, he bought a new farm not far from their own, meaning that they saw him regularly growing up. Now he owns a farm a couple miles outside town and invited them over for tea whenever they wanted to see a familiar face and catch up. It would probably be good for them to do just that — maybe speaking their own language and reliving fond memories with an old friend would be a welcome break from stealing and shooting._

_Today, we got plans. Trelawny is due to swing by after being away for a while. Apparently he was contacted once Marston and Dutch has settled on a plan of action for the heist. I suppose we’ll have to wait and see how that goes. I also have to leave tomorrow to pay Eliza and Isaac a visit before we take on the train. It’s going to be a busy few days…_

* * *

Josiah Trelawny’s arrival was always something that brought with it a flamboyant and grandiose flair. He could disappear for months on end and still somehow have everyone happy to see him upon his return. He was also the only one in camp who got away with this manner of living. Arthur supposed it was because he always brought useful leads and ideas with him. That, and he was a great connection for them to have. They wouldn’t have been able to do many of their heists without his intel and input.

So, when the luxurious man rode into camp, Arthur shouldn’t have been surprised to see him carrying a large sack of what he presumed to be helpful contents. 

“Good to see you, Arthur!” Trelawny greeted him as he strolled up to Dutch’s tent. “And you as well, Dutch.”

“Josiah,” Arthur nodded in return. “It’s been a while.”

“I suppose it has.”

“A while or not,” Dutch began, offering the newcomer a cigar. “You’re always welcome, my friend.”

Trelawny accepted the cigar with a grin and proceeded to light it. “Such hospitality from a band of filthy degenerates!”

Dutch chuckled. “We may be filthy, but we ain’t degenerates.” He was quick to call John, Maebh, and William over to join them.

When the trio approached, Trelawny greeted them with enthusiasm. “My, you three have gotten so big since I last saw you.”

John was quick to defend them. “We ain’t _kids_.”

Josiah only offered sarcasm in return. “A pleasure as always, Mr Marston. I am merely stating that you were all smaller the last time I saw you.”

“It’s only been a few months,” William responded, though he greeted the man with a firm handshake. “Relax yourself.”

“Young William! Good to see you!”

“Took your time gettin’ back to us,” Maebh teased him. “Welcome back.”

“And Miss Maebh,” he said, taking her hand. “It is good to see you, dear.”

When he placed a kiss on her knuckles, the young woman only laughed. “Relax with the charm for a sec — you only just got back.”

“Why’d you call us over here anyhow?” John asked with a frown. “To _flirt?”_

William gestured to his shirt collar. “If you’re dyin’ for Trelawny's attention, you’ll have to undo some of those buttons first.”

“For _clothes_, son,” Dutch replied. “New clothes for the four a’you.”

“Wait,” William cut in, smiling slightly. “Are they new clothes for the heist?”

“As sharp as a nail, my good man,” Trelawny said before shrugging the large sack off his shoulder. “Dutch sent for me in Des Moines a few days ago once he and John had agreed on a rough plan for your upcoming heist. Knowing you would be going in disguises, I picked up outfits for you all.”

Arthur couldn’t help but smirk as William stood up straight, visibly excitable at the concept. Within the sack was four smaller bags. Trelawny had a peak inside each before he handed them out. “That is for… Arthur. And this is young William… Miss Maebh… And Mr Marston.”

Arthur peered into his bag and looked through the contents. It appeared to contain a simple but expensive looking outfit. He noted black pants, a grey shotgun coat, a waistcoat that matched, a white dress shirt, and a black dress tie. He noticed that it was expensive, but nothing too ostentatious that would draw unwanted attention or make them stick out in a crowd of wealthy travellers.

“What the hell is this?” John asked, pulling out a worn-looking black vest and white shirt.

“You’re going as an employee, of course,” Trelawny replied, smoking his cigar casually. “Dutch told me you would need one, so I contacted a friend who owed me a favour.”

Arthur noticed Maebh trying to hide an amused smirk before he too was pursing his lips together.

“Well, yeah,” John stuttered before shoving the clothes back into the bag. “But I thought you’d give ’em to Hennigan, or somethin’…”

“William? Preposterous! We thought it would suit you better.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Well, _you know_…” Trelawny waved a hand up and down John’s frame dismissively before quickly continuing on. “Now, I also have covers for you to use if you find yourselves in conversation that requires it. John will simply be one of the train workers. William, you will be a young salesman travelling alone across states for business, and Maebh and Arthur shall be a newlywed couple looking to buy livestock in the next state over.”

The revelation had Arthur grinning. It was always good to know that he would have someone he could trust watching his back on such an important heist. He looked at Maebh to see her already smiling at him. “Lookin’ forward to it, husband.”

“I ain’t husband material,” he admitted with a laugh. “But I’ll try my best.”

“_‘Ain’t husband material’_,” she repeated with a look of disbelief. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“I do love a good backstory,” William said as he studied a grey crusher hat he pulled from his bag. “It gives me somethin’ to work with so I can get into character.”

“You and Arthur will also need to trim those beards,” Josiah added, gesturing to their furry chins. “But we can wait until the day to have that done.”

Arthur let out a grumble, but said nothing when Dutch gave him a disapproving look. “It’ll grow back, Arthur.”

“Never come between a fella and his facial hair, Dutch,” Maebh joked, noting Arthur’s sour expression. “Especially not these two.”

“Here are their tickets,” Josiah announced and handed them on to Dutch for safe keeping. “You will all be seated in the carriage closest to the front of the train, and John should have the ability to move freely between most areas. That should be everything you’ll need.”

“Thank you, Josiah,” Dutch said earnestly as he placed the tickets beside his cot. “We wouldn’t be able to do this without ya and I’ll have you reimbursed for the clothes.”

“Are you goin’ t’stay for a bit?” Maebh asked curiously. 

“But of course, my dear!” Trelawny replied with gusto and offered her his arm. “I have much to tell you and your brother about my travels.”

“I was hopin’ you learned more magic tricks while you were away.”

“Trust me, this magician has much to show.”

William was quick to take his sisters bag as she accepted Josiah’s arm. Arthur simply chuckled and shook his head as his old friend began a rambling tale of his apparent adventures. Once he had dropped off his own clothes in his tent, he joined the rest of them by the campfire where he continued to recount embellished stories that were probably mostly waffle. Regardless, the gang spent most of the evening around the fire, drinking and allowing Trelawny most of the floor in-between bouts of singing and music led by a happy and drunk Uncle.

Arthur was merely cheerful knowing that their plans for the train were thankfully moving swiftly and positively. The confidence within the gang was growing with each successful move — this take was going to be _big_. 

* * *

Maebh sat on her bedroll, unable to keep her eyes from leaving her book and focusing on a busy figure not far away — Arthur.

The older man was packing a small bag with clothes and food, much like he did every few months before he dipped out for weeks on end. In that time, she had no idea where he went or what he was doing, but she couldn’t help but be inquisitive. 

“Good book?” her brother asked, announcing himself as he returned from a hunting trip. He plopped himself down on the bedroll beside her. “You still on _Othello_? How long does it take you to bleedin’ read?”

“You ever wonder where Arthur goes on his trips?” she asked, completely ignoring his question. 

William followed her stare before he offered a reply. “Uh, not particularly? I never put much thought into it.”

“I have,” she admitted, watching intently as Dutch came to offer Arthur some form of a goodbye. She got the feeling that most people in camp knew where he went on these trips. “I’m kinda curious ’bout it.”

“Why?”

“I mean, _why not?_ What does he do in the time he’s away from camp? Is he visitin’ someone? Doin’ jobs on the side? Bounty hunter work? Oh! Or maybe he’s secretly a stage performer?”

He blinked, eyes narrowing slightly at the thought. “Okay, so maybe the possibilities are a little interestin’...”

“See? Now you’re speakin’ my language.”

As she shut her book and got to her feet, her younger brother frowned. “You goin’ to harass him?”

“Jesus, I’m only goin’ to say bye, alright? You comin’?”

He shook his head. “I already had a chat with him earlier and I promised to help Pearson with the deer I brought in. I’ll leave you to it.”

Maebh was quick to exit the tent, stretching as she stood. She ventured over to where Arthur was attaching his bag to Boadicea’s saddle. Copper the dog sniffed around nearby, circling his owner inquisitively. She grinned as Arthur gently patted the mare’s neck, cooing kind words that made the horse bob her head in delight. “You off again, Mr Morgan?”

He offered her a polite smile. “I am indeed, Miss Hennigan.”

“Will you be back in time for the train?” she asked, gently rubbing Boadicea’s muzzle. 

“O’course. I’m only goin’ for a couple days this time so I’ll be back beforehand.”

She nodded before pointing to the dog. “Is he goin’ too?”

“He usually would be, but considerin’ I’m goin’ for a shorter trip, ain’t much point in bringin’ him along before leavin’ again.”

“Myself and William can keep an eye on him if you want?”

“You sure?” he asked as Maebh called the dog over. “I don’t want him to be a bother.”

“He’s no bother at all,” she assured him, reaching down to scratch Copper’s floppy ears. “I know we’re not as good company, but you’ll be alright with us, won’t ya, boy?”

She could see Arthur’s eyes flitting between them both, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thank you. At least now I know he’ll be in good hands:”

Maebh watched as Arthur reached into his satchel and pulled out a small piece of dried meat. Copper’s ears perked up at this development and he immediately sat down obediently.

“This’ll keep you busy, boy,” Arthur cooed, handing the treat to his pet. Copper took it gently between his teeth and quickly trotted off to enjoy his gift. “He won’t bother ya much, I promise.”

“Again, he’s no bother, Arthur,” she replied with a scoff. “He’s a lovely dog so I don’t mind it.”

Even still, Arthur expressed gratitude again before mounting up and grasping the reins in his large hands. He carefully placed his gambler hat on his head and then sighed. “I think I’m good to go...”

“Got everythin’ you need?” she asked, blocking the sunshine with her hand as she looked up at him.

“Sure do. I’ll see you in ’bout a week, Miss Hennigan. You take care o’that brother o’yours.”

“I’ll try my best.”

She stood back and gave him a wave as Arthur lead Boadicea out of camp and out of her company for a week’s time. Even still, she couldn’t ease the curiosity welling in her gut. She never asked where he was off to, mostly because she knew he wouldn’t tell her regardless. She was certain that anyone who was part of the gang before her arrival knew, but anyone after definitely did not. They all just eventually gave up asking when they never got an answer. Either way, she wondered where Arthur was going for months at a time and whether she would ever find out. 

In the days after their first trip to Saint Charles, both Maebh and William had been back on a few occasions, most of which involved scouting the area down south where the robbery would be taking place. There were still details they had to sort here and there, but Dutch seemed quite happy with how things had been so far. They had time yet to get a handle on the finishing details, like more details around who they would be on the train. Or in William’s words, ‘_what parts we’re playin’_’. It seemed that Trelawny’s original proposals had sent William off on a tangent.

Deciding that it was best to be productive that morning despite Arthur’s absence, Maebh approached Mr Pearson as he stood over the massive stew pot. William stood nearby, skinning a deer. “Mornin’, Mr Pearson.”

“Good mornin’ to you, Miss Hennigan,” he offered in return. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m just wonderin’ if you’ve any jobs that need doin’.”

Pearson paused at his work before clicking his fingers and grabbing a small piece of paper on his table. “I have a list of supplies that need buyin’ if you’d like to take that on?”

“Might as well,” she replied and took the list he offered with a smile. “Cheers. I’ll head over to Winterset and pick them up now.”

“I’d take the wagon with ya — it’s a fair amount.”

As she strolled towards the gang’s supply wagon, she called for her sibling. “William! _Tar anseo, le do thoil!”_

He was quick to approach once the deer was taken care of, and asked curiously. “Where you off to?”

“Town. Pearson needs some more supplies from the general shop. You want’a come?”

“Yeah, gewon. I’ll join you. Just let me wash my hands.”

“Best bring Copper too actually. I told Arthur we’d keep an eye out for him.”

At that, William quickly cleaned his hands in a bucket of water and then whistled for the dog, who came running over. He was rewarded with scratches behind the ear and pats on the head from the young man. It didn’t take much for his tail to begin wagging enthusiastically.

Maebh was just about to climb into the front seat of the wagon when Bessie approached. “Where are you two off to?”

“A supply run for Pearson,” she replied. “We’re headin’ into Winterset to grab what he needs.”

“Mind if I join you? I have to pick up some things myself.”

“Sure!” Maebh offered her a smile before adding. “You feelin’ up for it?”

“I’m certainly feelin’ better than what I was,” Bessie explained. “I may be old, Miss Hennigan, but I ain’t dead yet.”

“It takes a lot to knock you down, Mrs Matthews. Hop on.”

“You take the front seat with Maebh,” William insisted as he offered Bessie a hand up. “I’ll hop in the back with Copper.”

“Such a polite young man,” the older woman teased as she climbed into the seat with his assistance. “When you ain’t holdin’ up a bank.”

He shrugged at the joke and cracked a small smile. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

“And endless charm to boot.”

“Ya see? This is why you're one of my favourite people.”

At that moment, Uncle came towards the wagon and directed a question to her brother. “Did I hear y’all say you’re goin’ into town?”

“Sure did, old man,” William replied, patting Copper’s head. “Why?”

“Think you could pick me up some booze?”

Maebh rolled her eyes while William shrugged. “Sure, if you gimme the money.”

“I’ll give it to ya when you get back.”

“Ye will in your hole,” William scoffed. “I’m not buyin’ you drink with my own money, Uncle.”

“You ever hear of respectin’ your elders, kid?” Uncle retorted in an offended tone.

“You ever hear of not bein’ a scab?”

There was brief stare down before Uncle grumbled and reached into his pocket. He tossed the younger man a couple of coins before speaking again. “I think Arthur is havin’ a bad influence on you, Willie.”

“You’re lucky I’m even pickin’ this up for you at all,” the blonde replied before waving Uncle off. “Now geway before I change my mind ’bout doin’ you a favour.”

Once William was sitting on the back of the wagon with Copper safely beside him, Maebh slowly lead them out of camp. Upon reaching the main road, she urged the shire horses into a steady trot. The rolling hills of Madison county were some of Maebh’s favourite landscapes to travel through. She found something oddly relaxing about the gentle undulations of the land and the cool morning breeze. The wagon’s wheels cut through the soggy ground, moistened by a rainy night, so she was careful to take bends in the road with ease.

“What’re you pickin’ up then?” Maebh asked after a few moments of silence. 

“Nosey girl,” Bessie replied with a smirk. “Some provisions mostly, and bait that Hosea needs for one of his huntin’ trips.”

“He plannin’ to go off for a few days?”

“Mm hmm. Said there’s a big buck been spotted a few counties over, so we plan on investigatin’ once the train job is outta the way.”

Maebh nodded in understanding and quickly cracked the reins in her hands. “That’s good. We’ll be missin’ Arthur ’round camp so we could do without you and Hosea goin’ now too.”

“Arthur is always missed,” Bessie agreed a shake of her head. “I know everyone pulls their weight, but I feel like he sometimes carries the load of two men.”

Letting out a small huff, Maebh couldn’t help but agree. “He does an awful lot, I’ll give him that. He deserves the break, in all honesty.” She paused momentarily before pressing on. “At least, I _think_ he’s takin’ a break. What’s he doin’ anywho? Huntin’? Fishin’?”

She hoped her attempt to learn some more about Arthur hadn’t come off as pushy or nosey. If she was, Bessie certainly wouldn’t have an issue warning her of the fact.

“He runs some errands,” she replied, not giving much away. “Pays some visits — the usual.”

Bessie didn’t leave much room for asking more questions about it, something Maebh figured to be intentional. Unwilling to push her luck, she simply nodded her head slightly and focused on the road ahead.

Despite the silence, Bessie continued. “What Arthur does is Arthur’s business.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I didn’t mean that you should apologise,” she hushed her gently. “All I’m sayin’ is that Arthur’s errands are personal and if and when he’s ready to tell you ’bout them, that’s his place, not mine. Much like how you two came to Hosea and I the other night. We weren’t gonna force you to say anythin’, even if we had suspicions.”

Her words were, as always, laced with a kindness and wisdom that only she and Hosea seemed to embody. Maebh appreciated the non-answer because it was certainly better than a lie or a scolding. “Noted, keep my mouth shut. Got it.”

“It ain’t _that_, not exactly. I’m sure when he’s ready to tell you he will.”

“I just hope it’s not ’cause he doesn’t trust me,” she explained, releasing a sigh. “He’s a good man, y’know? So I can’t help but value his opinion.”

“I do know. How ’bout you tell him that he’s a good man and maybe he’ll start believin’ it himself.”

“It’s not for lack of tryin’, I promise.”

Bessie was quick to place a comforting hand on her arm. “I know, I know. It ain’t a trust issue. You can tell Arthur is fond of the two of you.”

“For the record,” William called from his seat at the back of the wagon. “I love that big grumpy bastard too.”

“Oh I know, Mr Hennigan,” Bessie answered, brushing some greying hair out of her eyes. “There ain’t no doubt in my mind about that. You can see the mutual respect between the three of you. But don’t be puttin’ any pressure on him to talk, alright?”

“We won’t,” Maebh assured her. “The last thing I’d want to do is make him feel under pressure.”

William spoke up again. “You have our word on that, Mrs Matthews.”

Their short trip continued with some casual conversation on lighter subjects before they eventually arrived in Winterset. At the general store, they put the owner to good use, giving him the list and waiting outside as he brought everything to them one by one (including bourbon for Uncle). Together, Maebh and William loaded it all into the supply wagon while Copper watched on inquisitively, quickly sniffing the boxes and bags if he got the chance. 

“Is that everythin’ I can help y’all with today?” the shop owner asked, slightly out of breath from all the heavy lifting.

“I’ve a list of my own,” Bessie said before quickly adding. “But don’t worry, it ain’t _that_ long.”

“Well ain’t that a relief!”

Maebh quickly handed him over the pay before he and Bessie headed back inside to pick up what she needed. While they waited, she took a seat on the shop steps with William, who tossed a stick for a happy and playful Copper. 

“He seems okay even though Arthur isn’t ’round,” he noted, accepting the stick once the dog returned it to him. “I thought he’d be a bit more down considerin’ he usually goes with him.”

She watched as he threw the stick again and the dog went running. “Guess it helps that he’s got good company.”

“That must be it.”

“You seem in better form lately,” she noted, turning to look at him. “Less... _on edge,_ or somethin’.”

“The lack of events at camp have helped with that.”

“Ah. You talkin’ ’bout your watch?”

He nodded slowly with his lips pursed. “There’s been no sign of whoever that fucker was, so hopefully he stays away from us unless he fancies me stranglin’ him…”

“Hopefully it was just some idiot playin’ a dumb joke.”

“It’s an awful lot of trouble to go to just for a _joke_.”

“Yeah well, some people are stupid, William…”

“Whether it’s some idiot or not, as long as he stays away from camp I’ll be happy out.”

They weren’t waiting too long for Bessie to return with her goods and soon the four of them were once more riding the wagon back to camp. The journey was a pleasant one as Bessie requested they sing a song of Irish heritage, and a happy singsong ensued with everyone becoming involved. The process of unloading all the supplies was completed swiftly with Pearson’s help and the siblings were happy to help him pack it all away for future use. With little else to do, they helped him prepare lunch by chopping some vegetables and cleaning cutlery and bowls in the late morning sun. With their assistance, Mr Pearson fixed the gang some venison chilli con carne that seemed to go down quite well. After her surprisingly pleasant meal, Maebh sat by the campfire making split point bullets, meticulously carving x’s into her ammo over and over with a hunting knife. Copper lay next to her on the ground, his attention focused on a bone she’d given him earlier. She had gotten through a fair number of bullets when she heard her name being called. Looking up, she saw Dutch standing over her.

“Any chance you’d join me for a walk, Miss Maebh?” he asked, offering her his hand.

Quickly shoving the bullets into her satchel, she accepted his hand and got to her feet. “Sure. Where you off to?”

“I’m gonna go collect some ginseng for Hosea,” he explained. “Cedar Lake ain’t too far away and we should be able to find some up there. I already promised I’d help him find some, considerin’ he’s still worried ’bout Mrs Matthews. Figured you could bring Copper along.”

Upon hearing his name, the dogs ears perked up curiously.

Maebh offered Dutch a smile. “Sure, we’ll come along. You fancy a walk, boy?”

Copper’s affirmative bark was enough to go by, and the pair strolled out of camp arm in arm, the dog running alongside them with a perpetually wagging tail. It had been a while since Maebh had spent any time one-on-one with Dutch, so his characteristic advice and theoretical ramblings about the work of Evelyn Miller were a welcome change of pace. The walk was a pleasant one, and it was nice to get out of camp on foot instead of riding horseback for once. Upon arriving at the lake, they passed by the odd fisherman here and there who offered them polite hellos from a distance. One of them even pointed in the direction of a spot where ginseng usually grew. They both found what they were looking for with relative ease, as the plant was quite common to the area.

After collecting any American Ginseng they could find, they carried it all in a small bag and then headed back towards camp. 

“How’s your brother been lately?” the older man asked. “I’ve noticed how he’s been somewhat on edge since the whole escapade with his pocket watch, not that I blame him.”

“He’s a bit better,” she confirmed with confidence. “I mean, he hopes he gets to squeeze the life out of whoever caused all that mischief, but I think he’s calmed down a bit since there’s been no more sightings.”

“Honestly I’d fear for anyone who suffers his wrath,” he admitted with a slight laugh. “That boy can be so eerily calm one minute before he loses all reason and sees red.”

“He can be ruthless alright. Arthur said a similar thing to me before.”

“I know that Arthur thinks quite highly of William. I would say that so do I, as do the rest of the gang, but I know that perhaps we know him a little better havin’ known him for longer. And you two grew up together, so o’course you would know him inside out.”

“I understand.” Maebh frowned and watched Copper as he happily trotted along the dirt path. “I think sometimes people can be a little afraid of William when they don’t know him. He can be very standoffish with people he doesn’t know, and has no qualms with fighting his way out of something if he’s no choice, but he would also lay down his life for those he holds closest to his heart.”

“I see what you mean,” Dutch agreed. “I think that’s why Arthur is also so fond of the boy. He sees a lot of himself in ’im, and I feel that Arthur could’ve been a lot different had Hosea and I not taken him in. The same could be said for John… I think that you two were in a similar place when we first met you in Wisconsin. Ain’t somethin’ that’s a certainty, but I like to think that we’ve been a good influence on you two.”

Maebh contemplated his words for a moment. While she had discussed ‘what could have been’ with her brother many times, openly admitting their possible downfall to the gang leader was something yet to be done. He knew a bit more about their past than Arthur did, but since meeting with Hosea and Bessie a few nights ago, they were the only ones to know of their skeletons in the closet. There were plenty of occasions where she found her thoughts drifting when lying on her bedroll at night, conjuring up vivid images of where she and William could have been had things not played out as they did. The thoughts of what they would have done to survive had the Van der Linde Boys not also tried to rob that stage caused her stomach to twist. Dutch was, by all accounts, an intelligent and honourable man. He held contempt for the rich who refused to help those suffering, and decided that someone had to bloody well do it. He invited lost souls into the fold; into his family. If he openly expressed worry for what William might have become had things been different, there was probably some truth to it. If she was honest with herself, her brother was one of the only things in this life she worried about.He was all she had left of her old life and the urge to protect him from any outside threats had only grown over the years. She was foolish to think that them growing into young adults would make her feel less determined about keeping him safe. Now, it seemed perpetual. Even still, she refused to have William be anything other than his best, which was something she took great pleasure in witnessing. 

As long as he was happy in life, she would find her own joy in seeing him so content. 

“Dutch, I really don’t know where William and I would be if it wasn’t for this gang. God knows how things would’ve turned out.”

“I wouldn’t worry yourself with those thoughts, my dear,” he reassured her in his usual assertive manner. “Ain’t no point in spendin’ time worryin’ ’bout what can’t be no more. No matter what might’ve happened to you and William back then don’t matter, because you’re with _us_ now. _Loyalty_, Maebh. It’s what keeps us together, keeps us strong. We’re a family, and family will always have your back. I know I always say it, but the reason why we are strong is because we have _faith_. Faith in each other, faith in this land, faith in _this_ life — not the one these Pinkertons say we gotta live. Ain’t nothin’ quite like a close gang like ours with unshakeable faith and the urge to do what’s right. Whatever might have been for you and for William — or even Arthur and John — don’t matter no more. What matters is that while we walk through this land of degenerates and government pets and immoral men, we walk _together_. Each step takes us further away from the other lives we might’a lived had we not been so lucky… It won’t be easier neither, but if we stick together, why we can create our own paradise in this land on our _own_ terms. We do what’s right, and we do it together. Remember that, my friend. You have a good head on your shoulders, and this life can be whatever you want if you keep it that way. Don’t let the past spoil what you have now.

“I don’t want you worryin’ unnecessarily. If you ever feel your concerns with anythin’ gettin’ the better of ya, you can always come and talk to me or Hosea ’bout it. Understand?”

She had to be honest, she really did appreciate these talks with Dutch. He had a habit of always managing to get rid of any doubts she had tucked away in her mind.

“I understand, Dutch,” she replied firmly. “I have to keep my head up and my eyes forward.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He gave her arm a squeeze. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, Miss Hennigan. Not when we’re here to look out for each other.”

The comforting silence of their walk was cut short at those words. From behind a tree a large figure came barrelling from the woods, wrapped in a large, brown leather coat and hiding the lower half his face behind a bandana. Maebh’s eyes fixed on the rifle he carried, now pointed directly at them. As soon as he appeared, Dutch brought her to a steady halt.

“Right, you know how this plays out,” he grumbled with a slight slur. “Gimme your money!”

His tone was not lost of Copper who began to growl deep from his furry chest. Maebh was quick to release Dutch to grab at the hound’s scruff, uncertain whether this man would hesitate in shooting the animal. His morals seemed as far receded as his hairline. The last thing she needed was to tell Arthur she got his dog _shot_ the very day he left her alone with him.

“You shut that dumb animal up ’fore I put a bullet in ’im!” the robber snarled, visibly losing patience. “Empty your damn pockets!”

Maebh’s revolver lay holstered on her hip. Had she not been holding Copper, she might have been quick enough to draw on this unsteady man without losing any valuables, but it was becoming apparent to her that this wasn’t an option — she was completely reliant on Dutch, who hadn’t yet said a word.

The barrel of the rifle was set on them both, moving back and forth between its two targets. The thief’s brow shone with a thin layer of perspiration from either the heat of the afternoon sun, or stress of the situation.

Maebh looked to Dutch, a man who always had a plan.

She had not been expecting, however, the only response he offered their masked attacker.

_He laughed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points to whoever can guess who the thief is from the obvious hint/insult about his appearance...


	9. Once More into the Fray...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dutch deals with his and Maebh's attacker in a unique way, and the day of the train heist finally arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one hefty chapter - we're just shy of 7,000 words, oh BOAH - so I apologise for the slight delay between updating. How and ever, this chapter was a lot of fun to write and I hope you enjoy it. There's a severe amount of Johnbashing in this but I love him really, I promise. Credit to those who correctly guessed the identity of the highwayman! 
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Minnesota, WI” — Bon Iver, “In God’s Country” — U2, “God Slap” — The Scratch, “Future Glory” — Jed Kurzel

“Now son, why do you got that gun pointed at me and my friend here?” 

Had Maebh been expecting Dutch’s tactics for dealing with a drunken highwayman to be laughter and sympathy? Not even remotely, but it wasn’t like she had any option other than to trust him. She had seen him talk his way out of many a situation in the last three years, so had no reason not to have faith that he could do it again. She kept her mouth shut, holding and pacifying an on-edge Copper, his hackles raised in defiance.

“’Cause I want your money, mister,” the robber replied. When Dutch laughed again, his cheeks went red. “You shut your damn mouth laughin’ at me!”

Dutch’s tone revealed just how unfazed he was by the situation. “Well what has you all the way out here tryin’ to rob some good folk such as ourselves?”

“Ain’t none of your business. I’m not lookin’ to talk.”

“I very much doubt that, my friend,” Dutch replied steadily. “You look to me like a feller who could do with some talkin’. I’m Dutch, this fine young lady is Maebh, and that’s Copper.”

The larger man grumbled. “I don’t give a shit.”

“What’s your name, sir?”

“None o’your business! My only concern here is money.” Dutch chuckled again at that, prompting an aggressive response. “I told you to shut up laughin’!”

“How can I not laugh, my friend, when you insist on pretendin’ like you don’t need some help. You can’t tell me that you planned on spendin’ your life on the highway robbin’ any folks that wander by. Don’t you want some purpose?”

“How I spend my life ain’t no concern o’yours.”

“Well if you’re strugglin’ it is.” Dutch took a step towards the attacker, small enough that it wasn’t intimidating, but sure enough that he appeared confident in the move. “I have a gang, ya see — a family of misguided souls who were hard done by this country’s leaders. If I see someone I think needs help and has somethin’ to offer, I’ve no problem extendin’ a hand. Now, we got food, shelter, and booze, and you look like you can handle a gun. Why don’t you put it to better use makin’ a difference with some likeminded folks?”

The man hesitated, his rifle still aimed steadily, but his tone shifting into something more inquisitive. “And why don’t I just shoot you two down now, take your money, and be on my way?”

Dutch hummed with an amused grin. “Well, there’s two outcomes for that Mister…?”

A pause, then a gruff answer. “Bill.”

“Mister Bill, then. Either you shoot me, Maebh, and Copper there before lootin’ our corpses and wanderin’ off before you either die alone by the bullet or the bottle. Or outcome number two; I draw my gun so quickly you can barely make a noise before I blow your brains out. Now, I would much rather it didn’t come to either of these, but it ain’t gonna end well for anyone who threatens my family.”

Maebh opted to keep quiet, knowing Dutch was far better with persuading crazy criminals than she was. She focused her attention on keeping Copper calm. Thankfully, the dog had stopped growling, but he was still very much wary of the stranger. She patted his side gently, reassuring him that he was alright and that he was, of course, a good boy.

“Tell me, Bill,” Dutch began again. “You ever heard of the Van der Linde gang?”

Bill released a huff. “Heard of ’em? They’re famous for robbin’ banks all over the damn place. Are you tellin’ me _you’re_ Dutch Van der Linde?”

“Well I certainly ain’t talkin’ through my ass, son. Either you can join one of the most famous band of outlaws in the country, or you can go ’bout your business on your lonesome. It’s your choice, and I _implore_ you to make the right one. It would be good to have ya onboard. You don’t gotta be alone anymore.”

There was a tense silence. If Bill was expecting Dutch to further try convince him to join, he was met with merely a stare down. The older man had already laid out his cards on the table and waited for the reveal of Bill’s hand. Maebh fixed her gaze on him, ready and willing to have Dutch’s back if it came to it. The barrel of the rifle rattled in Bill’s shaking hands before it abruptly lowered to the ground.

He quickly pulled down his bandana to reveal the rest of his pudgy face. “Suppose I would be dumb not to take it.”

Dutch smiled widely and quickly grasped his hand to shake. “Right you are, Bill. A wise choice indeed.”

At Dutch’s insistence, Maebh stepped up and accepted Bill’s handshake. “As long as you never point a rifle in Copper’s direction again, we’re good.”

He nodded, looking down at the young woman. “I ain’t gonna argue with that.”

“Just a warnin’, ’cause his owner would have no problem stranglin’ you for it.”

“You’ll meet him at another time,” Dutch began. “For now, you can come to camp and meet the rest of the gang. We can have some drinks and you can tell us about yourself. How’s that sound?”

“Good,” Bill replied, standing with his shoulders slightly more relaxed that before. “I guess.”

Even still, Maebh was wary. This wasn’t like when they had previously recruited Reverend Swanson. He had joined after saving Dutch’s life, whereas Bill had just threatened to shoot them both. Even still, she had to place faith in her leader and assume there was logic to his offer. While this newcomer certainly appeared lost and directionless, he also seemed ruthless if he was willing to rob and shoot innocent people along the highway. Perhaps that could be knocked out of him. She knew from her experience with Arthur that a hard and threatening front used to get your own way could always be just an act.

So, she listened carefully as they walked back to camp and made idle conversation. Bill was an army veteran, having been assigned to the 15th infantry that fought against Native Americans. When asked about why he left, he admitted to being dishonourably discharged for deviancy and attempted murder the year before.

_Jaysus, not off to a great start,_ she thought to herself. _Although I guess I can hardly judge…_

He admitted to sleeping rough for the last year, just about surviving off robbing people along various highways while drinking to pass the time. Not exactly a pleasant life or ideal situation for anyone to be in. She could at least understand why he had been so inclined to accept Dutch’s offer when he had little else to live for. 

Back at camp, her friends were surprised to see them returning with not just the ginseng. 

“Everyone!” Dutch announced, standing outside his tent. “Everyone! Gather round!”

At his words, the ever loyal gang members who were present stood together before him. William found a spot beside Maebh while Karen appeared nearby too. 

She gave Maebh a nudge with her elbow before nodding to the newcomer who stood awkwardly next to Dutch. “Who’s that?”

“New recruit,” Maebh whispered. “Met him when he tried to rob us on the highway.”

“Rob you?” Karen repeated in disbelief. “And he took him in?”

“Guess he figured he was another lost soul. I think he sees some potential... He looks like a big gruff bastard, but I trust Dutch on this. He did threaten him for tryin’ it on us, to be fair.”

“O’course. Trustin’ Dutch ain’t my problem, but threatenin’ to shoot and rob y’all don’t sit well with me.”

“As much as I appreciate you defendin’ me, let’s just see what happens.”

Maebh quickly finished the conversation just as Dutch began to address the group. “Now, friends, I wanted to introduce you all to a new recruit for our family. This is Mr Bill...?”

He threw a glance at Bill, who cleared his throat. “Williamson.”

Maebh heard the small snort that William let out under his breath as Dutch continued on. “... Mr Bill Williamson, and Maebh and I met him out on the highway. He’s another man lookin’ for purpose, just like all a’you. And just like all a’you, he has somethin’ to offer. So for tonight, everyone who is here is gonna sit ’round the fire and celebrate a new member on our mission to find paradise. What do you think?”

“We’re always with you for a party, Dutch!” Davey cheered, already going to grab a bottle of beer.

“Boss’s orders!” Mac agreed, following his brother’s lead. 

There were unanimous cheers from the gang, during which Maebh met the eyes of a very happy looking Karen. “Right, I ain’t happy he threatened you two, but I ain’t never gonna turn down an opportunity to drink.”

As Dutch asked for Mr Pearson to grab the boxes of beer he had stashed, the group began to disperse and William turned to the two women. “Is no one gonna talk about how that fella’s name is William Williamson? Even better, William Son of William? I can’t be the only one who thinks that’s hilarious.”

Maebh linked her arm into his before replying. “As long as you wait a few months to say that to his face, it’s grand.”

“Are you three gonna catch up or keep whisperin’ to each other?” asked a already half-cut John Marston. He wobbled up to them with beers in hand, fully intending on getting them locked.

Maebh took the beverage he offered with thanks. “But we’re goin’ t’have’ta drink two whole beers before we catch up with you.”

“You sayin’ I’m a lightweight?”

“_Yeah_,” Karen agreed, though not unkindly. “Because ya are. We say it all the time.”

John let out a raspy wheeze. “Well at least drink with me after insultin’ me.”

Happy to oblige, the group all sat around the campfire and began to work their way through multiple beers. As Dutch had requested, it became an evening of everyone introducing themselves to Mr Williamson, and the latter sharing what he could about himself. Even though she was surrounded by her family and friends, Maebh couldn’t help but feel the loss of Arthur’s presence on such a celebratory occasion.

* * *

Just over a week later, Arthur was happy to see those familiar tents and wagons as he steered Boadicea down the little pathway that led to camp. He had enjoyed him time away even if it was only a short trip, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn't missing the gang. It was late at night again he returned, choosing to spend as much time as he could with Eliza and Isaac. The first one he met was Marston, who sat at a table on the edge of camp cleaning a repeater with a cloth. He looked up as he heard the hooves on the dirt path.

“Welcome back, Morgan!”

“Good to see you, Marston.” He carefully eased his faithful steed to a hitching post and allowed her to get her breath back as he dismounted. Offering her an oatcake, he continued talking to his brother. “How’re things?”

“Good,” the younger man replied. “We’re all ready to go tomorrow. You made it back just in time.”

“Yeah well, figured I should get the most outta my trip.”

John got to his feet, gun cleaned and ready to head off to guard duty. “How’s the boy doin’?”

“He’s doin’ good. Gettin’ big!” Arthur smiled at the memory. “He seemed happy to see me.”

“I’m sure he was. And how’s Eliza?”

“She’s good too. I brought them some supplies and money to keep their stocks up, but she said they were managin’ just fine. She took it after some insistence.”

“She sounds almost as stubborn as you.”

“Just about.”

The sound of his name being called grabbed Arthur’s attention. William offered a small wave as he made his way over to the pair. “It’s good to see you again, pal.”

“You too, kid,” Arthur replied and gave the younger man a firm handshake. “How’ve you been gettin’ on?”

“Just preparin’ for the train really,” he replied. “Dutch wants us to try keep our heads down beforehand so we don’t make too much noise. How was your trip?”

“Good,” Arthur affirmed. “It was nice to have a little break from bein’ an outlaw. What are you still doin’ up anyhow?”

“I’ve got guard duty with Marston,” William explained, gesturing to the carbine slung over his shoulder. “We make a good team, don’t we, John?”

“Sure,” John mumbled with a raised brow. “I guess so.”

“Why are you pullin’ that face when I just gave you a compliment?”

“That’s the exact reason _why_ I’m makin’ this face, Hennigan.”

“Look,” Arthur cut in quickly. “I’m gonna get some sleep before the heist tomorrow. You two try not to shoot each other, alright?”

At his insistence, the pair swiftly left to take up their spot amongst the surrounding trees. With the rest of camp either sleeping in their tents or passed out drunk, he was relieved he could sneak off to his tent and grab some much needed shut eye before tomorrow. Now that he was away from his son, it was back to the reality of the Van der Linde gang.

* * *

“What d’you think?”

Maebh looked up from her book to see William standing over her, one hand gesturing to his face. She blinked twice upon realising that his beard had been replaced with a dark blonde moustache on his upper lip.

“Had you told me you were goin’ t’do _that_,” she began, shutting her book after marking the page. “I would’ve said you’re mental, but you actually pull it off.”

William smiled at her compliment and turned to look at his handy work in the small mirror beside his shaving utensils. “Cheers. I figured I should go all out if I’m to look like a fancy salesman on a trip for business.”

“You definitely look the part,” she agreed and got to her feet. “Mrs Matthews and Miss Grimshaw said they would do my make-up for it.”

“Make sure Susan doesn’t go too dark on your eye shadow.”

“I’m pretty sure she knows that’s a look only _she_ can pull off.”

Maebh stretched slightly, looking out at the rest of camp from their tent. It was mid afternoon in Iowa, the entire gang having just finished their lunch for the day. Trelawny was still at camp, agreeing to stay up until after they rob the train, considering he was due a cut for his services. Said train was due to pass through Saint Charles that evening, with a change of guard coming at the state line. While running her eyes over each member of camp, she spotted a familiar face coming towards her.

“Hey, Arthur!” she greeted the visitor.

Arthur had returned last night while she had slept, and he had been asleep all morning. Unwilling to disturb his much needed rest, she waited patiently to welcome him back home.

“Miss Maebh,” he offered in return, tipping his hat. “Mr Hennigan. How’re y’all doin’?” At that, William turned around and Arthur saw his new look on full display. “Damn, kid. How the hell do you manage to pull that ’stache off?”

“It must be my youthful good looks,” William replied. “Who fuckin’ knows.”

Arthur chuckled before idly stroking his thick beard. “I actually gotta shave myself, now that I think of it.”

“How was your trip?” Maebh asked, recalling her previous conversation with Bessie about his privacy.

“Good, good,” he replied with a small smile. “Always nice to get away for a little while.”

“Well you’re gettin’ thrown into the thick of it again now.”

“You’re tellin’ me. By the way, who’s the big bastard I’ve seen drinkin’ with Mac and Davey?”

“Awh Jesus, let me tell ye…”

With their departure time getting ever closer, the trio only spoke for a short while before Maebh went off to see Bessie and Susan. Though Bessie’s health had still been on the up and down, she was happy to help Susan do her make-up so that that she looked the part for the heist. With her makeup resembling something simple yet elegant, they helped her get into the outfit Trelawny had brought as part of her wealthy facade. The grey shirtwaist, decorated with white floral patterns and white lace, also included long sleeves that ruffled at the shoulders and a high neckline, beneath which she had stuffed a bandana for later use. Her skirts, matching in colour, were long and reached down to her black boots. Her footwear thankfully sported a small, chunky heel so that she wouldn’t fall on her face mid-robbery. A white brimmed hat covered her hair, that Miss Grimshaw tied up into a neat bun. On top of this, she wore a matching linen suit jacket and black leather gloves to complete the look.

“You look stunnin’ _and_ pompous,” William later noted as she emerged from the tent. “It’s _perfect!”_

Maebh shook her head. “Thank you. I’m just happy that Josiah picked up something I can still move in. Plus, there’s plenty of room under my skirt for a revolver.”

“It’s also a good thing that crooked clerk will be able to get us on without bein’ checked for weapons,” he added before shrugging on his own dark grey suit jacket. He seemed happy and confident in his attire — a striped waistcoat, a white dress shirt, a purple tie, dark grey pants, and black shoes. “How do I look?”

“Great,” she complimented, surprised by how much older the attire made him look. “You’re the perfect amount of pretentious. I know I was originally worried ’bout how we were gonna pass for rich people, but we actually look really good…”

“Don’t we?”

“You two ready to go?” John asked, walking up to them briskly in his worker uniform. His eyes darted between them, awkwardly flitting up and down Maebh’s ensemble. “You two look, eh… good.”

“So do you,” she offered in reply. “I have to give you credit, you _do_ look like a convincin’ worker.”

Finishing up the group, Arthur made his entrance. Maebh couldn’t help but give him a once over, noting the well-fitted suit that seemed to create a whole new Arthur Morgan. She tried not to stare — she really did, especially considering he could be so damn self-conscious for some reason — but her eyes took him in with genuine appreciation. He carefully smoothed the front of his grey coat as he joined them. Smartly dressed and beard neatly trimmed, he was ready to go.

“Y’all ready?” he asked before making eye contact with Maebh. 

The intense gaze of his blue eyes caused her to blink and look away quickly, realising that he most certainly caught her staring, a gesture she hoped hadn’t made him uncomfortable.

“I think we’re set,” William answered, straightening his tie. “Where’s Trelawny?”

“Right on time,” John announced pointing to the tree line behind them. “And he’s got a friend.”

Maebh, relieved to have a chance to tear her gaze from Arthur, turned to see a coach commandeered by two men coming down the pathway. Trelawny waved from the driver’s seat. “Afternoon, gentlemen, madame!”

The coach came to a halt by the patch of grass where their horses were grazing. Trelawny joined them while the driver waited in his seat.

“You all look wonderful,” Josiah noted before glancing back at the driver. “Don’t mindAndrew — he’s a friend. Are we ready to go?”

“Indeed we are,” Dutch called as he briskly walked to join them. “Are we all clear with the plan?

Arthur nodded firmly. “You’re gonna take John up to the station on Norwalk where he can sneak onboard, the coach will take myself and Maebh to Saint Charles where we’ll board, and Josiah will drop William on the outskirts of town so it don’t look like we’ve arrived together, before he leaves our horses at the quiet spot where we’ll start the robbery.”

“That clear with the rest of you?” With unanimous positive answers received, Dutch clapped his hands. “Then get your guns and let’s rob ourselves a train!”

They each hurried excitedly to their tents, grabbing revolvers, pistols, and sawn-off shotguns that they could sneak onboard. Once they were armed, they set out on their mission. John and Dutch were the first to leave, quickly mounting The Count before galloping out of camp. William climbed atop Dantès while Trelawny grabbed himself one of the spare mounts. Together, they gathered the horses belonging to Maebh, Arthur, and John, then quickly led the animals out on to the main road. 

All that remained were Arthur and Maebh. Still feeling a bit awkward having been caught staring, she accepted the hand he offered to help her into the coach. Sitting together in the back seat, the driver carefully steered them out of camp and onwards to Saint Charles.

“Well,” she sighed, looking out at the open country. “This is a bit weird.”

“How you mean?” Arthur asked curiously.

“I’m not used to takin’ a coach to a heist, especially in such fancy clothes.”

He hummed at her admission. “I know how you feel. I don’t mind wearin’ a suit, but the coach and driver is a new one.”

“I think you look really nice in the suit,” she blurted before realising what she had said. “Eh, y’know, you pull it off really well.”

He seemed to take her compliment well, but she wasn’t quite sure if she had made him uncomfortable or not. He scratched at the hair on the back of his neck and offered a humble response. “Thank you. It’s uh, always nice to get a compliment off a good-lookin’ woman.”

Her hands clasped each other in her lap, tapping rhythmically with the movement of the coach. “You sound like you’re bein’ overly generous, Arthur.”

“Trust me, I ain’t.” He paused, gesturing a hand up and down her form. “I meant to say, you look lovely in the outfit Trelawny picked out. Not that you don’t usually look good, I just ain’t used to seein’ ya this dressed up.” He cleared his throat before mumbling something self-deprecating under his breath. “Apparently I ain’t good at givin’ compliments.”

“Thank you.” She noted the slightly awkward air, and placed a reassuring hand on his forearm, which had unexpectedly given her a small sense of ease and comfort at the touch. They could both probably do with a change of subject, and she was more than happy to oblige. “At least we know we both look the part together. Speakin’ of, I guess we should come up with some names if they ask, right?”

“I suppose it ain’t a bad idea.” He pondered it for a moment before throwing out a suggestion. “How about Mr and Mrs Barnes? It’s a common enough name.”

“Sounds believable. I think, if I’m honest, you could pull off the name Henry.”

Arthur let out a bark at that. “Henry Barnes? If that’s the case, then you’re gonna be called Margaret.”

“I know you’re jokin’, but I think it works.”

“Then that’s what we’ll go with, my dear Maggie.”

The journey was thankfully not as awkward as Maebh thought it would be. Arthur was very much happy to fill the silence with just the right amount of conversation. Most of it involved their plan for the train or the last time he was required to dress up for a heist.

Upon arriving in town, the driver left them to their own devices and they strolled into the train station arm in arm. Inside, Arthur handed their tickets to the clerk, who quickly patted them down before allowing them through the doors on to the platform. As planned, he completely ignored their weaponry. She quickly spotted William sitting alone, barely acknowledging them as they walked through the doors. Technically speaking, they didn’t know each other in their current getups, so it was better to act as though they had never met. There were another three people on the platform, presumably boarding the same train as them. Arthur kept a close eye on his pocket watch (another part of Trelawny’s costume apparently) and the familiar chugging of the train could be heard in the distance as it approached the station only fifteen minutes after their arrival.

“Right on time,” he noted as it slowly came to a screeching halt on the tracks. “You ready, Maggie?”

“Of course, my darlin’ husband,” she answered in her best southern accent and kept a firm hold on his arm. “Let’s hope Marston got on alright.”

She felt his gaze burning into her, and looked up to see his blue eyes shimmering with amusement. “Since when can you pull that off?”

“I guess I’m full’a surprises.”

“I guess so, _my darlin’ wife._”

The train was, as planned, brought to a stop in Saint Charles station. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed William getting to his feet and waiting for the vehicle to stop. Once safely parked on the tracks, a steward appeared from inside to usher them on, calling out their destination to alert passengers waiting on the platform. He threw a glance at the tickets Arthur offered, before replying. “You’re to be seated in the front carriage, sir. Have a pleasant journey.”

Arthur thanked him and began to lead them through the carriage passageways to the front of the train. Inside, several couples and travellers where already taking up numerous spots. All dressed to the nines, Maebh suppressed the urge to stare and quickly sat where her partner had ushered them. Across the aisle, William took his own seat on a lone bench and focused his attention on the view out the window. Arthur completed the trio, taking the outside seat once Maebh had settled herself down. 

“All good?” he asked under his breath, his low timbre a surprisingly calming sound in its own right.

Appreciating the concern and eager to keep up appearances, she patted the hand he kept rested on his thigh. “Dandy.”

He returned the gesture by flipping his hand over and interlocking their fingers in a careful hold. “Did you spot Marston?”

Right on queue, the door at the front of the carriage opened and John appeared in full worker’s attire. As he walked down the aisle and passed their seats, she made brief eye contact with him. “Well, seems he made it on. Everythin’ is goin’ well so far.”

“Let’s make sure it stays that way, alright?”

She had very little time to contemplate that her friend, Arthur Morgan, was currently holding her hand with a tenderness that was new and unfamiliar and a tad daunting. She had assured him that such contact for the sake of the heist was entirely okay, but she was surprised to feel a little nervous at his touch. The rational part of her mind was frowning at her blatant display of overthinking, but dare she say she enjoyed feeling his fingers intertwined with her own? She had seen Arthur beat men nearly twice his size into submission, seen him unload shotguns like he barely felt the power behind the gun’s blow, and seen him break in the wildest of horses along their travels. And yet it was the timidness and the gentleness he offered when carefully wrapping his rough hand over hers that sent her unexpectedly reeling.

Her gaze wandered out the window as the train began its journey along the steel tracks below them, the countryside passing slowly by as they neared the quiet strip of land where the robbery would take place. The familiar hint of anxiety was hopping around her stomach as she realised the robbery was imminent. Despite the awkwardness, and despite her own confusion around the subject, she clung to his hand and clung to the small sense of comfort it brought amidst pre-job nerves.

“You doin’ alright?” she heard him ask. Turning her eyes from the outside world to the man sitting next to her, she was met only with concern.

“Just standard jitters before we y’know, eh, do the job.”

“We’ll be alright,” he assured her. “We got a great team at work here. Ain’t nothin’ to worry ’bout. You just gotta keep her head and you’ll be fine.”

She felt her lips pulling into a smile, his firm yet soothing words seemingly always there to help her doubt her own doubts. 

“Would you go over the plan again with me?” she asked in a hushed tone, aware of nearby passengers.

He leaned into her slightly, ensuring that anyone who was curious enough to nose would merely see a couple having a private conversation. “Right well, once we start approachin’ the quieter land, John will give William a nod to cause a distraction. Once that’s goin’ on, he’s gonna get himself to the driver and force him to stop the train before subduin’ him. He’s gonna hop off the train and head to the back to the baggage car. Then once we stop, you and I kick off the heist while William heads to the last carriage without givin’ anythin’ away. He robs from the back, us from the front. We then meet in the middle, get off the train, call for the horses, and bolt back to camp. Just remember, these are innocent folks, so we don’t want any of ’em gettin’ seriously hurt, or worse.”

“Got it, got it.”

With the plan clear in her mind once more, they sat calmly for another twenty minutes, knowing that the time for action was surely upon them. John made himself known in the cabin, passing through once more and giving the trio a very subtle nod to let them know that he needed the distraction now.

“What was William’s plan again?” Maebh asked Arthur under her breath, readying herself for action.

“He never said,” Arthur replied, eying her sibling curiously. “But he better do it now.”

As if hearing his queue with Arthur’s words, William let out an exaggerated gasp and spoke out in the most ridiculously posh British accent she had ever heard. “_You!_ Worker!”

Maebh looked over at her brother in surprise, as did the rest of the passengers. 

His finger was pointing squarely at John, who stood there like a deer in headlights. “Uh, yeah?”

“You got grease on my suit!”

The passengers looked to John for a response, but all he could muster was a stuttering apology. “Uh, I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t see how I could’a—”

“You _don’t see_ how you _could have?”_ William repeated, punctuating every word with utter distain. “Are you inept, man? You are _covered_ in grease from head to toe and you don’t see how you could have stained my suit? You brushed past me and left an _entire oil slick _in your wake!” 

Maebh stared between the pair, mouth agape and not even remotely faking any of her shocked reaction for the sake of their innocence. She genuinely thought this whole thing was _hilarious_. Her brother was full on shouting now, on his feet and making intense demands. 

“Do you have any idea _how much_ this cost me?” he screamed, voice cracking as he got more agitated. Suddenly, he addressed the crowd. “Fear not, fellow passengers! I shall see to it that the expense of cleaning my suit will be taken from this greasy raccoon’s measly wages!”

“_Sir_,” John began, visibly frowning. “If you could just calm down—”

“I will not _calm down_, you miserable wretch! I will have you removed from your post for this heresy!”

“You show him, mister,” Arthur mumbled, mostly to himself, very much getting a kick out of this interaction. “Make a _big_ scene.”

As William’s shouting grew louder, the passengers’ mumbles grew more confused, and John grew more embarrassed, another member of staff came hurrying into the carriage. Judging by his dress, Maebh assumed he was someone of higher position than John at least.

“What seems to be the problem here, sir?” he asked, trying his best to remain civil despite the mayhem that was occurring in front of a live audience.

William whipped around with the elegance of a panther and pointed a shaking finger at John again. “This man is leaving a _trail._ I demand you find a new worker _immediately_. I came all the way from North New York and I demand better, sirs! Since when do Cornwall Kerosene and Tar employ _slugs_ upon their trains?”

The steward looked stunned. “A _trail?”_

“Of _grease_ and _filth_ and _poverty!”_

Visibly confused by the altercation, he turned to John with a tired expression. “Son, did you not bathe before your shift?”

“Uh, it’s just train oil, I swear.”

“Train oil?” William screeched and threw his arms up in the air. “_Train oil?_ Are you calling me a liar, man? I have never in my life dealt with such hypocrisy and disrespect, not in any of my journeys across the settlements in this country! I swear on my dearest mother’s grave — God rest her soul — that this man is the most petulant pustule I have ever had the displeasure of meeting! And now my suit is ruined when I have to do business in the next state over! What am I to do, sirs? _What am I to do?”_ The steward had no time to respond before William visibly wobbled on his feet, breathing deeply with wide eyes. “My God, I think I am about to faint. All because of this greasy, husky, mongrel hick of yours! Oh my—”

As quick as a light, he was out. William went tumbling to the ground, feigning unconsciousness and rousing screams from some of the other passengers. Chaos ensued. The steward tried to shake him awake, but he remained on the ground, mumbling incoherently about ‘suing the raccoon for damages’. The steward panicked, stumped for what to do before he asked if anyone onboard was a doctor. As one man answered his call, Maebh watched John quickly slip out of the room.

“And there’s our distraction,” Maebh announced, nudging Arthur with her shoulder. “You ready?”

“After a performance like _that?”_ Arthur laughed. “I feel like I could take on a damn army.”

“Inspirin’ as always.”

Seconds later, the train suddenly jerked, sending some of the standing passengers tumbling to the floor. Maebh clung to the seat in front of her and the train screeched in exertion as it forced to stop, the metal-on-metal ringing out and piercing her ears. The crew and passengers looked dumbfounded, some peering out the window to see where they were. With the sun setting in the distance, the world outside looked dark and empty.

“Ready?” she heard Arthur whisper as he pulled his bandana on over his face.

“Ready,” she confirmed, and quickly covered hers as well. “Let’s do this.”

With the experience that came with multiple hold ups and years of gunslinging, the pair got to work. On his feet in an instant with his hidden revolver revealed, Arthur yelled at the top of his voice. “Everybody stay calm, and nobody’s gettin’ shot!”

“This is a robbery, fellas!” Maebh added before whacking the stunned steward out cold with her sawn-off shotgun. “Everythin’ you got goes into the bag! Anythin’ worth a cent, is that clear?”

In the midst of the confusion, William was up in an instant and sprinting into the next carriage over to head to the back of the train. 

The passengers cowered in their seats, visibly taken aback by the strange turn of events that sent their normal day spiralling downwards. They begged and pleaded to be left alone, that they weren’t bad people, they didn’t deserve this, but Maebh paid them no mind, walking down the aisle and shoving the bag into their laps until they threw whatever they had inside. Some hurled abuse, but it fell on deaf ears that had heard far worse. Arthur stood over her the whole time, ever the imposing figure sporting a pair of fiery eyes to scare anyone who refused into submission.

“Let’s make this quick, people,” he snarled over her shoulder and at a man whose stubbornness nearly got the better of him. “We ain’t got all day and we don’t wanna hurt none a’ya!”

With the front carriage quickly cleared, they hurried into the next one down and repeated the process over again. She waved her gun in the air, instantly having their full attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery! Everythin’ on y’all — money, valuables, that nice lookin’ necklace — into the bag, or you’ll get a bullet in the brain!”

“Do as the lady says! We ain’t here to play goddamn games!”

“The sooner you hand it over, the sooner we’re outta here!”

Their threats worked like a charm for the most part, bar one obstinate husband who received a broken noise for his unyielding attitude. Just as they finished the second carriage, William came through the door, face covered with a bandana and his own bag filled with the results of an apparent successful hold up. John appeared behind him was his own take slung over his shoulder.

“We all good to go?” William asked, voice muffled from the mask.

Maebh quickly tied the bag shut. “All done on our end.”

“We ain’t nothin’ short of efficient, fellers,” John noted, slightly out of breath. “So let’s get.”

“Thanks for your cooperation today, folks!” Arthur called over his shoulder as the four of them hopped off the train, three heavy bags of money and valuables coming with them.As they each released a loud whistle, their horses came galloping from a short distance away, safely hidden where Trelawny had left them.

“Good job today,” Arthur praised them, hurriedly climbing atop Boadicea and patting her neck. “Real good job.”

“A fine job, my husband,” Maebh chuckled happily. “Very fine.”

“You are one mighty supportive wife, Mrs Barnes!”

As she was briskly strapping her bag to Dullahan’s saddle, a bullet suddenly whizzed overhead, cutting through the air with a howl. For a split second, the air escaped her lungs in a heaving gasp. It had narrowly avoided her and her horse, causing her to yell out in surprise. “What the _hell_ was that?”

“Is that the law already?” she heard Marston shout back.

“They don’t look like no law to me,” Arthur replied before grabbing his repeater and firing at the attackers. Maebh looked to the distant tree-line, seeing five riders coming from the brush armed to the teeth and faces covered with green scarves and hoods. Their harsh shouts and cries could be heard clearly on the wind, but they had little time to contemplate these new arrivals. Arthur downed one with ease, the bullet tearing through his chest and seemingly ending his life. “I think we just stole some other gang’s take, boys!”

“You recognise ’em?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen these idiots before!”

William was quick to draw too and managed to shoot another rider off his horse. “These shots are goin’ t’bring a whole load’a unwanted attention!”

John quickly agreed. “Then let’s get the hell outta here!”

“We split up then meet back at camp,” Arthur decided as he let off a final shot that hit its target. “Marston, with me! Hennigans, you two stick together, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir,” William replied hastily. “_Fágfaimid, _Maebh!”

Maebh asked no questions, choosing to grasp her horse’s reins tightly in her hand and urge her into a gallop. “_Maith an cailín, _let’s go back home now, alright? _Fágfaimid!”_

As the number of their pursuers dwindled down to two, the four outlaws didn’t hesitate to ride as fast as possible. Maebh pushed Dullahan to the limit, the animal breathing and voicing the effort as she and William tore through a tree line and out into an open field. Arthur and John had already disappeared in another direction, but she couldn’t afford to check for them with a curious glance over the shoulder now. Guns, though less so than before, were still heard going off behind them. All she could do was focus on her horse, focus on her brother, and focus on making it back home safely.

It didn’t take long for the shots to stop. Racing and winding through forest and field alike was something with which she was familiar. As the crack of bullets died away, the thundering beating of hooves on earth slowed its rhythm. The horses’ breathing slowed with relief, as did the wind whipping through her hair. They eased the animals into a trot, noting the stillness of the night around them. There were no lawmen, no gangs, no one following them. With calming words, they assured the other that they were alright.

They were safe, and they made it out with the money. The relief in her heart was a welcome feeling of which she would never tire. When these jobs went well, they were considered a great success, but while she felt pride and joy knowing they made it out, she knew they could be snuffed out with simply one well-timed bullet. 

The thought made her think of Arthur and John riding back to camp.

The siblings soon found themselves tired and alone in Madison County’s endless plains, slowly making their way home, and hoping that their friends had made it too.


	10. Fair is Foul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maebh and William return to camp after the train heist and the former spends some more quality time with Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in getting this bad boy out. Christmas was a busy time (Hopefully you all enjoyed the holidays) and I needed to write the second half of the chapter with my co-writer. The majority of the dialogue towards the end was written by him! Things are really about to hit the fan, you could say... Hope y'all enjoy this one! We're really happy with how it turned out.
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Flesh and Blood” — Half Moon Run, “Tabula Rasa” — Calum Graham, “Blood” — Jed Kurzel

A fiery early-morning sun rose over the rolling hills outside Winterset, Iowa. Reddish hues and wisps of orange clouds danced through the sky as dawn neared by the hour. The air was cool, the sunrise having not yet had a chance to warm the land below. As Maebh and William steered their horses down the path to camp, the sight of the familiar tents in the distance allowed her to release a breath she had not realised she was holding. Despite the unplanned detour after the heist, they had made it home. She had her brother and she had the money. More importantly, they were safe.

“It feels good to be back,” William said, the relief evident in his tone. His shoulders relaxed as he settled into the saddle and threw a glance his sister’s way. “We made it back together and unharmed as always.”

The smile she offered him was one for his eyes only. “We make quite a team. Hopefully Arthur and Marston made it back too.”

“I’m sure they did. There’s no way a couple’a little random outlaws stopped _them_ from gettin’ home.”

As they veered the animals towards the hitching posts, they heard Dutch’s voice welcome them back. “Hennigans! There you are!”

They hopped off their horses, not before giving them both a carrot for a job well done, then turned to face Dutch, who was already by their side.

“You found your way home,” he noted proudly before announcing their return to the whole camp, uncaring of those who may have been resting. “Everyone! Maebh and William are back!”

“Arthur and John—?”

“Are fine, Miss Maebh. They’re safe and sound in their tents. Just got in a little bit before ya.”

From around the campfire, Hosea and Karen approached to offer them a warm welcome back, and from out of their respective tents came their partners from the robbery. When Maebh saw her friends coming towards her without visible ailments, a warm sense of happiness washed over her. Arthur pushed through first, grinning at the sight of them. “Are you two alright?”

“We’re fine,” she assured him before turning the question around. “Are you?”

He waved an arm about as if he was unsure as to how he could greet her. She related to his uncertainty, pushing away the urge to embrace him and make sure he was indeed well. “Yeah, o’course. We weren’t in long ahead of y’all.”

“Well I’m glad you’re alright.”

Just then, John made his arrival known. Managing to slink his way through the crowd, he grinned at the sight of the siblings. “You took your time.”

William gave him a clap on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you too, Marston. Hope we didn’t worry you’s too much.”

Dutch shook his head. “We didn’t have any doubts about you makin’ it back to us.”

“We’ve got the money too!” Maebh proudly took the money from her saddle and offered it to Dutch. “We didn’t forget that.”

“While I appreciate the honesty,” Dutch began, laying a large hand on her shoulder. “My concerns are with you instead of the money. How ’bout you leave those bags in your tent and we’ll worry ’bout splittin’ it all in the afternoon. For now, you four should get somethin’ to eat and some sleep. Someone grab these folks some leftovers!”

More than willing to take Dutch’s advice, she and William were happy to be given some soup and bread to fill their empty stomachs after a long ride. Arthur and John stayed by their side as they grabbed a meal, already laughing over William’s choice of distraction for the heist. Despite it being at John’s expense and surprise, he seemed to find it somewhat amusing, but perhaps his willingness to laugh at himself was heightened by his joy in the entire event going to plan. All Maebh knew for sure was that she had found her way back to her friends and was safe once more.

* * *

** _16th of September, 1893, outside Winterset, Iowa._ **

_The train heist went mostly as planned last night, bar the fact we ran into another group of robbers after the fact. I didn’t recognise them — although I didn’t get a good look at them neither — but it seems we weren’t the only ones eying up that take. Regardless, I am merely glad that we all made it out in one piece and with the money on our backs. The more I see of the Hennigans in action, the more faith I put in them. They may be young, but they work hard and seem eager to do what they can to help out the gang. I hope that we can someday share these memories around a campfire and reminisce about their early days in our company. I really think they’re gonna make a name for themselves in years to come._

_While I was away, another lost soul joined our gang. A big gruff feller by the name of Bill Williamson. I have only spoken to him sparingly, but he seems eager to impress Dutch and show his usefulness. I have, however, seen him in a stake of drunkenness more frequently than being sober. Dutch says he was dishonourably discharged from the army and had been sleeping rough the last while, so I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised. According to Maebh, he threatened to shoot Copper when they met… He’s gonna have to work _ _hard_ _ to gain my trust now._

* * *

William and John were arguing with each other, as per usual. Arthur looked up from his journal to see the young men talking animatedly, though it didn’t look like it was about to break out into a fight. He stretched his arms with a groan and tried to wake himself up properly after his short nap. Admittedly curious as to what they were at each other’s throats for _this_ time, he shut his journal and approached the pair. 

“Do you two have to yell at each other every damn day?”

William and John looked up at his accusation while the former addressed him first. “When Marston here insists on makin’ dumb accusations, _yes_.”

John rolled his eyes. “Dumb? You’re so full’a shit.”

“What accusations?” Arthur pressed, unwilling to let them descend into arguing again. 

William crossed his arms over his broad chest. “He thinks he can beat me in a race.”

“Maybe because _I can?_”

“The word you’re lookin’ for is ‘_can’t’_. _Can’t_.”

“You two interrupted my peaceful afternoon ’cause you’re arguin’ over who is the better _rider?_”

The energetic reply came from both men this time. “_Yes!_”

At that moment, Maebh came over, rubbing her tired eyes and glaring at her friends. “Would you’s ever give it a bloody _rest_, I swear to God… I was sleepin’. Yis are worse than women.”

“These two are arguin’ over which of ’em can beat the other in a race,” Arthur clarified, clasping his hands around his belt buckle. “Apparently it’s very important.”

“It _is_ very important,” William insisted. “I’ll be dead in the ground before anyone claims Marston is a better rider than me.”

John folded his arms across his chest. “If you’re so damn sure’a yourself, let’s have ourselves a race.”

Arthur’s brow piqued as he glance at the Hennigan brother, his green eyes narrowing at the suggestion. “A race, is it? Right now?”

“Right now, Willie. Unless you’re afraid I’m gonna beat ya.”

“_Afraid?_ Nah, I’d just hate to embarrass ye, Johnny. How ’bout we make it more interestin’?”

“I’m listenin’.”

The Irishman fiddled with his moustache, appearing more devious than usual thanks to this new facial feature. “If I win, I get to cut your hair.”

John frowned immediately. “I ain’t lettin’ you anywhere near my hair.”

“What’s the problem? It shouldn’t make a difference to you if you know you can win.”

“He’s got you there, John,” Arthur added, tactically poking the fire. “I thought you was confident?”

John, sensing that there were no arguments to be had, conceded. “Fine. If you win, you get to cut my hair, but if _I_ win, I get that nice Litchfield you got in your tent.”

“You got yourself a deal, greasy. Let’s do it.”

Arthur noticed Maebh rolling her eyes as some of the others approached. Mac and Davey walked up to them to ask what exactly all the fuss was about.

“These two are gonna race each other,” Arthur explained casually. “They’ve been arguin’ all mornin’ ’bout it.”

“Yeah, I heard some’a that argument,” Davey answered with a wry grin. “They gonna race now?”

“Apparently…”

“We gotta take bets,” Mac insisted with enthusiasm. “So we can finally benefit from all their fightin’.”

“Bets?” Arthur repeated, liking the sound of the idea. He gave Maebh a gentle nudge with his shoulder. “What you think?”

Maebh met his gaze and flashed him a small but mischievous smile. “Make a little bit of money off their constant bickerin’ while watchin’ Marston get beat? Sounds good to me.”

Her dig grabbed John’s attention. “You’re a cruel one, Maebh. Mighty cruel.”

“She may be cruel, John, but she’s right,” Hosea declared. The older man sat nearby at a table, casually reading a newspaper while keeping tabs on the development. “William is most definitely the better rider.”

“Right,” William began before digging into his pocket and pulling out three dollars. He set it down on the table and turned to the group. “I’m startin’ this off by bettin’ on myself. Who wants in?”

“You heard the boy,” Hosea replied, nodding to the money. Ever the conman and ever the seeker of opportunity. “Time to place your bets, ladies and gentlemen. Who wants to earn some cash?”

“Me,” Maebh joined in, tossing another three dollars on the table. “On William to win, Mister Matthews.”

By now, Bill and Karen had also inserted themselves into the interaction. The sight of cash being thrown on the table and Hosea taking down names was enough to pique their interest. Apparently Williamson had other loves bar alcohol… 

As everyone went up one by one and placed money on either John or William, Arthur joined in and bet some of his own cash, but chose to keep his bet to himself. The group walked out to the main road outside of camp, eager to get the race underway. While William and John lead Dantès and Applejack along with them, Hosea explained the rules of the race and which route they would take with gusto. “We’re going to go for one lap, boys, and only one. You’re followin’ the road north, then comin’ on to the first bend towards the right that loops around the hill. Follow the tree line back down south, then skip through that field to come back on to the road you started on. This tree here will act as our startin’ and finishin’ line, alright?” As the two racers confirmed that they followed, Hosea continued on. “Now I want you two to start back here from these rocks, and bring your horses up towards the starting line in a canter. Then, when I give the signal, you can push them into a gallop.”

Following their instructions obediently, William and John lead their horses a few yards down the road to the rocks Hosea had pointed out. The small crowd of outlaws gathered beside the starting line, eagerly waiting for the race to begin. Arthur watched Maebh closely, for she seemed a little more reserved than the others. Perhaps it was an expression of quiet confidence in her brother rather than one of worry. 

The men, having been given Hosea’s signal, trotted up towards the group, determined expressions covering their youthful faces. With a wave of his hand and a cry from the older man, the boys kicked their horses into a thundering gallop. Arthur cheered them on as they sped up the road, kicking up dirt and dust in their wake. His eyes followed them as they looped around the hill, pushing their horses as hard as they could go. It was a closeone — very close. The closer they got to the finish line, the louder the group of friends cheered and clapped, urging the racer on whom they had placed money. John seemed to have the edge by only a couple feet, and yet William seemed unfazed by his position. As the horses raced back to the road on which they began, Dantès seemed to get a second wind. William pushed the horse onwards and slightly ahead of his rival with a flurry of precise kicks with his heels and cries urging him to overtake the other animal. The rhythmic thumping of their hooves grew closer and closer, until they once more crossed the tree line. William cleared it by about three feet ahead of John, and one half of the group erupted into cheers. 

Arthur couldn’t help but smile as William and John brought their horses to a skidding halt.

“Good race, Marston,” the former said, patting Dantès’ neck affectionately. “It was a close one.”

John grumbled, visibly frustrated with the loss. “I almost had it, goddammit...”

“I did warn you.”

Hosea approaches the pair with a wide smile. “Good job, boys, and well done to William, our winner! Everyone who bet money on Hennigan, come get your winnin’s.”

Maebh immediately approached once she flashed William a proud smile and gave his outstretched hand a squeeze. Karen claimed her cash with a word of thanks thrown in the young man’s direction. Hosea happily took his own share before he threw Arthur a look. With an awkward shrug of his shoulders, Arthur accepted the money he had won, sensing Maebh’s eyes on him.

“I thought you would’ve bet on Marston,” she admitted, pleasantly surprised with the surprise. “You bet on William to win?”

Before Arthur could even answer her, John yelled defiantly from his saddle. “What the hell, Morgan?”

“Oh, pipe down, Marston,” he grunted dismissively. “It ain’t nothin’ personal — the kid is a better rider!”

“Jaysus,” William exclaimed. “Your own brother bet against you. That’s harsh... Cheers, Arthur!”

“Don’t make it worse, kid!”

“Nah, I’ll only be doin’ that when I get to cut his hair.”

John released a groan, hanging his head in defeat, hair masking his face from the outside world. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“A bet’s a bet.”

As William contemplated as to what style he would like John’s hair to be in, Maebh approached Arthur and murmured. “I _really_ thought you’d bet on Marston.”

Arthur looked down at her in amusement. “How come?”

“Well, out of a sense of loyalty, I guess.”

He threw the younger men a cautious glance to make sure they weren’t listening. “Look, I’ll support John in whatever he wants to do, but I ain’t about to lose money on him.”

She seemed to find his answer humorous. “Dutch wouldn’t be amused with your lack of _loyalty_, Arthur.”

“What Dutch don’t know can’t hurt him.”

“That’s true, I suppose. What do you plan on spendin’ your slightly tainted winnin’s on?”

“Huh.” He pondered the query, realising he hadn’t actually thought too far ahead with this outcome. “I ain’t sure. I might just head into Winterset and have a look ’round the general store.”

“D’you mind if I come with?” she asked, a glint in her eye. “I think I’d like to do the same thing.”

How could he even attempt to refuse her company? Not that he even wanted to.

They had asked William, Hosea, and Karen if they wanted to join them considering they had also won big thanks to the young man, but their offer was politely declined. With no one else in the right form to be spending more money, Arthur and Maebh mounted their horses and made for the town. It was a short ride, one filled with idle conversation about the race and what was to become of John’s beloved hair. She said something about how a wash and a cut would do him some good, which may have been a low blow, but it certainly wasn’t a lie.

In town, they hitched their horse outside the general store and walked inside. The owner stood by a shelf, counting his stock and writing down figures into a notebook. Upon hearing them enter, he offered them a polite smile. “It is good to see you again, Miss. And you, Mister.”

“I hope business is good?” Arthur offered politely, nodding his head in greeting. 

“Stable at the moment, so I’m happy. What can I do for y’all?”

“Just havin’ a browse,” Maebh replied. “We’ve money to spend, but we’re not sure on what.”

“Well, if y’all need a hand, just holler.”

Arthur noticed Maebh veering off to look over each shelf in the shop. He scratched his stubbly chin while studying a bottle of bourbon on the shelf. He contemplated buying it for a brief moment before seeing his friend studying a display of secondhand books. He recalled the conversation they had had weeks ago in which she expressed her love for stories and writing her own tales. It was a pastime that made her happy, and one she had yet to explore again as far as he knew. His eyes darted between the bourbon on the shelf and her back as she brought a book up to the counter. 

Paying for it quickly, she stuffed it into her bag and joined him. “Thinkin’ of spoilin’ yourself?”

“Uh, maybe,” he answered before nodding at the door. “I ain’t decided yet. I can meet you outside once I make up my mind.”

He was relieved when she didn’t argue and left him to mull over his choice alone. Once out of sight, he wandered over to the shelf she had been pursuing and found what he was looking for. On the middle shelf was a bunch of leather-bound blank journals, thick with good quality paper and numerous pages. He flickered through the book, testing the paper between his thumb and forefinger before shutting it again. From a cup on the lower shelf he grabbed two pencils and, happy with his choice, went to the counter. As he handed over the money needed, the owner grinned at him beneath his facial hair and wished him a good day.

Outside, Maebh sat on a bench and casually munched on some biscuits she had brought along. She greeted him by offering the packet. “You were quicker than I thought you’d be.”

He waved away her gesture. “Yeah well, I realised what I needed quicker than I thought I would.”

“C’mon, Arthur. You have me waitin’ with bated breath!”

He paused and awkwardly cleared his throat. He had planned on doing this later, but found himself crumbling at her curiosity. He reached into his satchel and pulled out his purchases. “I, uh, got you these.”

He held the journal and pencils out to her, but she visibly hesitated. “You what?”

“Well, when I was in there, I remembered what you said ’bout how you used to write stories as a kid. I figured this might set you off on the right foot. Go on, take ’em. They’re yours.”

There was a short silence between them, in which it seemed like Maebh was trying to figure out what to say. At his encouragement, she carefully took the journal and pencils in her hands. Her eyes gazed at the new book in wonder. “Arthur, this is... This is really thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry ’bout it. It’s just somethin’ small.” He shrugged off her appreciation. Even still, the sight of her so truly enraptured by his gift made him feel surprisingly joyful. Inside his chest, which had been previously tight with worry before his reveal, was now warm and relaxed having thankfully received only appreciation.

“No _really_,” she insisted, flicking through its pages. “This was very kind of you. Although now this is a little awkward...”

He blinked, feeling his stomach about to drop in his now tensing gut. “What?”

“I uh…” She let out a huffed chuckled and reached into her satchel. “I got these for you too.”

In her hands was another leather-bound journal accompanied by some pencils. She held it out to him and he blinked at her in surprise.

“Why do you look like a deer that caught sight of a cougar?” she asked, trying to hide the small smile on her lips.

“I don’t.”

“You _do_, actually.”

“You…” He stood up straighter before gently taking the gifts. His fingers gently caressed the book’s spine. “Got these for me?”

“Yeah. I guess we need to hang out less. I know you told me you like keepin’ a journal, but I also noticed you sketchin’ some of the horses the other day.” Arthur quickly looked up from the journal to see her shrug. “I wasn’t watchin’ you or anythin’ like that! I just noticed as I was brushin’ Dullahan. I definitely didn’t want to disturb you while you were drawin’, so I kept it to myself. You told me before how important it is to keep up those hobbies, so I figured you could do with some extra pencils and paper. Maybe someday you can show me some of your sketches, and I can show you some of my stories, right?”

Though slightly miffed with having had her figure out his mostly secret pastime, he couldn’t help but be grateful for her thoughtful present. “Now I understand why you said it was awkward.”

“At least no one else was here to witness the awkwardness.”

“Right you are.” He offered her a bashful smile before placing his new items in his bag. “Thank you, Maebh. This was mighty kind of you.”

“I could say the same thing ’bout you,” she laughed and tipped her hat. “I’ll be sure to make good use of it.”

“Me too. Now let’s head back to camp before we make things more awkward.”

* * *

The whistling was what woke Maebh up that night. Whistling and footsteps.

The eery noise carried through the cool night air and into her tent, tearing her and William from a restless sleep. Rubbing the grime from her eyes in irritation, she had half a mind to tell whoever was awake at this hour to shut up and leave them to their rest. However, it seemed like William was going to beat her to it.

“I’ll sock whoever that is,” he grumbled and pulled back the tent’s flap. “The neck of them.”

“What’s the bets it’s Uncle with a bottle of bourbon in hand?” she pondered groggily. When her brother didn’t reply, she sat up on her bedroll to see him still standing and peering out into camp. “Who is it?”

He hesitated, his shoulders tense under his union suit, and answered lowly. “I’m not sure.”

The whistling and walking halted before a calm and surprisingly soft voice sounded from outside. The accent was distinctly recognisable to them as Welsh. “Rise and shine gentlemen!”

Sensing in her gut that something was direly wrong, Maebh quickly went to her brother’s side. She squinted and looked through the darkness to find a man stood in the centre of camp. He was well dressed and oddly calm for someone trespassing in a camp full of outlaws, but that wasn’t even the most worrying part.

“What the hell is he doin’ with that fella?” Maebh asked, her eyes trailing to the weeping man by the stranger’s side. A noose hung around his neck, his hands were tied, and his feet were bare and bloody.

“Nothin’ good,” was all William could manage as others started to ventured out from their tents. He quickly grabbed their revolvers and ushered her out. “Come on.”

All of the gang came armed and wary. Dutch was at the forefront, with an angry Arthur and skeptical Hosea either side. One glance around camp confirmed that everyone was there except for Mac, who was supposed to be on guard duty that night.

At first, she was fearful that those who would see her dead from Wisconsin had finally found them, but this man was not one she recognised. He looked older than Arthur, perhaps around Dutch’s age, lines framing the skin around his intense blue eyes. He had a strong jaw, dimpled chin, thick eyebrows, and a dark moustache to match. His smiling and handsome features left Maebh feeling a sense of unease she rarely experienced when meeting another person. He dressed well with a clean bowler hat and a dark suit. His attire displayed his wealth without seeming too ostentatious, but his posture was oozing with self-assuredness. He was outnumbered and he didn’t care. The newcomer stood proudly, smiling as the crowd gathered, grasping a lapel of his suit jacket in one hand and the hair of the tied-up man with the other. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the stranger had beaten his companion about the face, cuts bleeding and features swelling as bruises slowly formed. His nose was visibly broken but already bruised an ageing yellowish-brown. Only then did she realise who he was.

“William,” she whispered lowly. “That’s the lad from the saloon that came on to me. Pádraig wasn’t it? I broke his nose, remember?”

His reply was gruff, his glaring eyes focused directly on who he considered a threat. “Hard to forget him.”

“You chaps have been _very_ naughty,” the stranger announced in a relaxed tone. “Very naughty indeed. That business with the train?” He tutted and turned his focused eyes on Maebh. “And you, Miss Hennigan? Assaulting our poor friend here? Well that’s a particular brand of naughtiness that I take very personally.”

As soon as he addressed her by name, a shiver ran up her spine and she grasped the handle of her gun even tighter. William wasted no time in placing his body a little more in front of hers once the stranger had addressed her directly.

“Who are you, stranger?” Dutch addressed him evenly. “And what business do you have sneakin’ ’round our camp?”

The stranger appeared amused by his comment. “_Sneaking?_ I merely walked down the trail, Mr Van der Linde. I walked by that poor Callander fellow who was merely doing his job. He should wake up soon, but he will find himself with a fine knock on his blonde head.”

Bill, having apparently heard enough, let out a roar and suddenly charged the newcomer. Without an ounce of effort, the man quickly side stepped out of the way and his attacker went half-tumbling into the dirt.

“Mind your temper, Marion. That might get you in even more trouble someday.”

At that admission, Dutch addressed the other Callander brother. “Davey, Reverend Swanson, go get Mac and make sure he’s still alive.”

“Of course he’s alive,” the stranger said with a small chuckle as the two men quickly headed down the trail to check up on the apparently unconscious Mac. “Killing him was of no interest to me.”

“Strangers who attack my family are a helluva interest to me, Mister,” Dutch answered. “What the hell do you want?”

“We’ve been keeping a close eye on you lot since you arrived,” the man explained, tone never once shifting into something that showed concern. “And I have to admit I’m somewhat impressed by the amount of ruckus you’ve managed to cause in such a short time. It is truly spectacular. Were my employer not furious with you, I might even applaud. What an admirable little bit of chaos you’ve wrought.”

“Who the fuck is your _‘employer’?”_ William asked.

“My employer is none of your concern right now. All you lot need to worry about is the fact that you currently stand on O’Driscoll land.”

“What the hell is an O’Driscoll?” said John, grasping a shotgun wearily. As he spoke, Davey and the reverend came back up the trail, carrying Mac with them. He was out cold but seemingly alive despite the panic. They placed him on his bedroll and quickly began to check him over.

“You should know,” the stranger replied in a clipped voice. “You’ve been meddling in our affairs for the last few weeks and done a number of jobs in _our_ territory. Being a right thorn in our sides, you are. But this will continue no longer. Leave. _Now.”_ He addressed the whole gang, dragging his eyes over each individual so that his words were registered. “You will suffer no consequences if you do, but keep causing us problems, and you’ll lose a lot more than just a watch, Mr Hennigan.”

Maebh’s stomach twisted with the discovery — _this_ was the man who had stolen her brother’s pocket watch from right under their noses. Somehow, he had snuck into camp, stolen it, only to return in the dead of night and leave it for them to rediscover. He had been here before while they all slept, he had laid hands on their personal belongings — who the hell was this guy?

“How did you manage to get in and outta this camp undetected?” Hosea asked. “Someone must’a seen you.”

The stranger shrugged. “Perhaps if Miss Hennigan and Mr Marston took their guard duties a little more seriously you wouldn’t have been left so vulnerable.”

John snarled and quickly raised the shotgun. “One more word outta you and I’ll blow a damn hole in your head!”

Dutch was quick to intervene. “John, you put that damn gun _down_. Ain’t no one gettin’ shot tonight just yet.” Though it took a few moments, the younger man slowly lowered his weapon with a look of vivid displeasure. Dutch looked at him sternly before continuing. “So you were the one they saw outside camp.”

The Welshman grinned. “Indeed I was, so kind of you to notice. And here I was thinking that you had forgotten all about me.”

The group began to grow more tense each passing minute. The more information that was revealed, the more they realised how heavily their privacy had been invaded without their knowledge. He had gotten their names, snuck into their home, taken their possessions… And now, he was kicking them off this apparent ‘O’Driscoll land’. What else had he done? What else _could_ he do? Maebh had never seen a smile that set her so on edge.

“I don’t see why we can’t come to some sort of agreement,” Hosea cut in, unwilling to play any games or let the situation spiral further. “Work this out like gentlemen.”

The stranger’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight, a sharp edge of bitterness washing over his structured face in a fraction of a second. “I think you should be more concerned with your wife’s wellbeing, Mr Matthews. And besides, we’ve already come to an agreement. You’re leaving.”

At the mention of his wife’s illness, Hosea visibly tensed, as did Arthur and many of the other gang members. Maebh could feel the rage seething off William next to her, let alone the furious hammering of her own heart.

Dutch spoke again with much less patience. “This is a free country, Mister.”

“Not for _you_ it’s not. Would you call this being free?” He waved a free hand around camp, eyes wide and wild. “You operate under the guise of helping people but you leave disaster in your wake everywhere you go. You donate half of your take to the poor, but that money is already stolen from those who earned it. I’m sure it makes you feel so high and mighty! Who are you really helping? _Yourself?_ At least I have the decency to admit it. Apparently you even needlessly _kill_ now, Mr Van der Linde; what a development.”

“What’s to stop us from shootin’ you?” their leader replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Puttin’ an end to this right here, right now? 

A silence hung in the air while everyone waited for the stranger’s answer. He merely chuckled to himself and responded with confidence. “That would be _very_ unwise. We have enough blood on our hands for today; we’d hate to have to add more.”

Suddenly, the man released his accomplice’s hair and drew a schofield revolver from his hip holster. Almost instantly, everyone in the gang aimed their own weapons at them, no one even hesitating once he had done so. The Welshman seemed amused by the display, holding up his free hand and keeping the gun aimed at the ground. “Oh, Dutch’s Boys _do_ move quickly. Do you all plan on riddling me with a bullet each? This ought to make a great entry in your little diary, Mr. Morgan.” He cleared his throat and spoke in a gruff, southern accent. “_Last night, Dutch had us murder this stupid feller who sneaked into camp. Damn bastard never saw it comin’ but we showed him, yeehaw._”

“Just what do you think you’re gonna accomplish here, with all these guns aimed on ya?” Arthur asked, eyes narrowed and calculating. “Gonna try take one’a us out? We’d gun you down before you could even try, damn the consequences.”

Another pause passed through the nighttime conversation. The stranger, still smiling despite staring down numerous gun barrels, replied. “That’s not what I’m here for.” 

The bang of his gun cut through the tense silence in camp.

Smoke rose from the stranger’s gun, but no one in the gang fired their own weapon — the scream that rang out didn’t belong to any of them.

At the newcomer’s side, Pádraig, the man whom had been viciously beaten already, howled in pain as the bullet tore through his shoulder. Uncaring and not even looking at the wailing man, his attacker holstered his weapon once more.

“Pádraig here was a disappointment to my employer after returning empty handed from that train you so rudely intercepted,” he explained without much emotion. “And _he_ does not suffer disappointment lightly. Do with this wretch what you will, it is of no concern to us, and remember Mr. Van der Linde, do not disappoint. I’d say ‘see you around’, but for your sakes, I hope not.”

As the screams continued to tear from Pádraig’s throat, the stranger stepped over his fallen body and began to slowly walk back down the trail. When he passed by in front of Dutch, he paused as if remembered something. “And to answer your earlier question, you can call me Matthew. Considering I know _so_ much about you, it is only fair to give you something, yes? Good day, gentlemen, ladies.”

With that, Matthew continued on his way down the trail and disappeared into the darkness. Even as she lost sight of him, his whistles carried on through the night air until they too faded into the distance.

Once he was gone, everyone breathed a small sigh of relief until they remembered the fallen man still whimpering in pain.

“What do you we do, Dutch?” Arthur asked with a grave expression. 

“About everythin’?” Dutch asked before nodded to Pádraig. “Or about _him?”_

Arthur looked somewhat shaken and replied. “About all of it, I guess. But what _about_ him? Do we kill him?”

At the sound of that proposition, Pádraig began to plead. “Please don’t kill me! _Please_, Mister, have a heart!”

“Why shouldn’t we kill ya, you lil O’Driscoll boy?”

“I’ll tell you anythin’ you want’a know about ’em!” he insisted desperately. “_Anythin’! _Just please don’t kill me!”

Dutch stared at Pádraig in silence for a few moments, many thoughts probably flying around his head. “Arthur, Miss Grimshaw, help this feller to a spare bedroll, will ya? Do what you can for him. If Mac is doin’ alright, get the reverend to help. I need you both to keep him alive.”

Arthur shrugged before roughly grabbing the man by the shirt and tossing him over his shoulder. “You’re one lucky son-of-a-bitch.” 

Maebh watched as he and Susan quickly brought the man to the reverend’s tent and set him down on the ground. They didn’t even hesitate and began to get to work and follow Dutch’s orders. No one dared to question his choice except for young John, who let out an audible scoff. “How can we keep him? We got enough mouths to feed as it is, let alone this clown.” 

“What do we always say, John? We save fellers as need savin’.” Dutch then turned to the assembled crowd and addressed them all. “The rest’a you, go get some sleep — I need you all up bright and early in the mornin’.”

“What for?”

Dutch focused his eyes at the trail down which Matthew had left. With a bite to his tone, he placed his hands on his hips and answered. “Tomorrow we’re movin’ on.”


	11. Fire Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang starts packing up so that they can move on to a new spot, and Arthur and Maebh learn more about each other over an impromptu meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! Here is another chapter for y'all to feast your eyes upon. Arthur and Maebh's interaction in this chapter wasn't meant to be anywhere near as long as it ended up being, so enjoy some unplanned fluff after all the creepy vibes from the last chapter. Thanks as always to the new subs, commenters, and shneaky ghost readers! I appreciate you's sticking around and I hope you're enjoying this lil mess of mine so far.
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “20 Years” — The Civil Wars, “Marion” — Bon Iver, “Oh My Lovely” — Daniel Lanois, “The Cruel Wars” — The Dreadnoughts

Arthur was powering through a cigarette when Dutch approached him that morning.

“I want you to come into De Soto with Maebh and I,” the latter explained. “While this lot are packin’ up everythin’.”

Arthur ran his eyes over camp, within which Miss Grimshaw and Mr Pearson were rallying the troops. Now that everyone was finally waking up with the rising sun, they had to get everything packed away so they could move onwards to their next destination. Most people were on edge, snapping with less-than-usually-needed prompting or flat out keeping to themselves. Swanson’s tent that housed the O’Driscoll was being avoided by most of them. It wasn’t an easy morning in camp, but after a night like that, who could blame them? The day ahead was sure to be a busy one. 

“Whatchu wanna do in De Soto?” Arthur asked as he inhaled roughly.

“I want to have a chat with the saloon owner in town. Maebh said that he seemed to know our new friend after she broke his nose. He might be able to give us some information on these O’Driscolls. That and I wanna pay Annabelle a visit before we go. Don’t want her thinkin’ I’d run off without a word.”

“What about the O’Driscoll we got here? He ain’t talkin’?”

“Right now, he’s restin’ and I don’t think he’ll be doin’ much else for a while considerin’ his injuries. Plus, if we already know more than he realises, we can compare what he tells us with what the saloon owner says. You in?”

Though Arthur partly wished he could avoid the O’Driscolls altogether, he agreed to accompany them into town to gather whatever information they could. “Sure. You wanna leave now?”

“The sooner the better,” Dutch said, going off to fetch his horse. “I asked the others to pack up the rest of our things while we’re gone, so don’t worry about ’em.”

“You got it, Dutch.”

As Arthur went to mount up, he spotted Maebh doing the same thing. Noticing the slight furrow in her brow, he lead Boadicea along and slowly approached his friend. “How’re you doin’ this mornin’?”

She offered him a half smile and shrugged as she secured the saddle to her mare’s back. “Just as you would expect after a night like that. How ’bout yourself?”

“A lil shaken, I guess. It’s not everyday some nutcase comes into camp like… _that_.”

Maebh frowned at his words. “I was goin’ t’ask if that sorta thing was a regular occurrence, but I guess not. It takes a lot to shake _you_.”

It was easy enough to see — or perhaps it was easy for _him_ — that she was just as perturbed by said recent events, and Arthur had no interest in making her feel worse. If anything, he felt the need to make it better. A little bit of reassurance would hopefully improve her mood. “Unfortunately it ain’t. Sorry to break it to ya. But that don’t matter — once we move, we should be fine.”

“The sooner the better. Where are we headed anyway?”

“South Dakota,” a reply sounded from behind them. Right on time, Dutch appeared with the Count not far behind. “A small town called Fulton, to be exact. Far enough, but not too far. Headin’ west is usually a safe bet.”

“How long’ll that take?” Maebh queried as she pulled herself up on to her saddle.

“A few days with rests here and there. Myself and Hosea are familiar enough with that country. The others will meet us in town once they’re packed up and ready to go. Now, let’s get this over with, shall we?”

The ride into De Soto was shorter than usual. With little time to spare, the trio galloped as quickly as they could into town and arrived at the saloon. Considering it was so early in the day, it was mostly quiet, bar a couple of patrons who were grabbing food or a questionably early drink.

As Dutch greeted the owner, he clearly recognised them given the slight scepticism in his face. “It’s good to see you again, friends. What’ll it be?”

“Three beers, Mister,” Dutch said and placed some coins on the counter. “But we ain’t here just for drinks.”

Once the drinks were set down, Arthur took a swig and the barman looked at them with hesitation. “Well, I hope you’re not here to cause more trouble.”

“Of course not, friend,” Dutch insisted, laying on all the charm he had. “Now to be fair, I think that guy deserved a knock or two after what he said to young Maebh here.”

“Probably, but I still don’t like when it happens in my establishment.” His eyes wandered to the young woman before adding. “I hope you were alright afterwards, miss, but you looked like you could handle yourself alright.”

Maebh nodded. “I like to think I can.”

“We just wanted to ask you some questions about the men from that night,” Dutch continued. “If that’s alright with you. I promise we won’t be startin’ nothin’ in your saloon, just wanna look out for ourselves, if’n you understand me.”

The barman idly cleaned a glass as he gave them a nod to go on. “Ask away.”

“What can you tell us ’bout the O’Driscolls?”

“I thought you might have known ’em already, considerin’ you were so quick to fight back.”

“That’s just a habit of ours,” Dutch explained with a slight smirk. “We only heard of ’em last night, so we’re lookin’ to get whatever information we can.”

“Well they’re not good news, I can certainly tell you that much.” The saloon owner glanced around the room before continuing on in a lower voice. “They’re a gang that says they run Madison County and a lot of these parts of Iowa. I haven’t got a good word to say about ’em — always robbin’ and killin’ when they get a chance. Get away with a lot of it ’cause they’ve got corrupt men workin’ in different towns; doctors, inn-keepers, store owners, gunsmiths, you name it. They’ve got a couple here and there. They’re made up of mostly Irish, but they’ve got plenty of Americans and Scots in their ranks too — seem to have a helluva lot of numbers. They claim to be workin’ against _‘order’_ and all that, but I think they just wanna cause trouble wherever they can. I usually don’t like ’em comin’ in here ’cause they either scare away my other customers or cause fights to break out.”

“Any idea who leads the gang?” Arthur asked after another swig.

The man shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know many of ’em bar the ones who come in here. I wouldn’t even know their boss if I saw him in my saloon. Sorry, misters, ma’am.”

“No problem, partner. Any information is better than nothin’.”

As Dutch finished most of his beer, the owner replied. “Glad I could help. I do hope that whatever problems you got with those boys don’t last long.”

They let the man get back to business while they contemplated what he had to share. Arthur was the first to clear his throat. “Well, that was better than nothin’, I guess.”

“At least we know more ’bout what we’re dealin’ with,” Dutch reassured them. “I think we’re makin’ the right decision in movin’ elsewhere. If their numbers and reach are as that man describes ’em, then we ain’t got much chance and I ain’t willin’ to risk lives for the sake of pride.”

“We’ll follow you wherever needs be, Dutch,” Maebh added. “We trust you.”

“And it feels good to have such reliable friends by my side,” he admitted. “Now, I need to go and attend to the rest of my business, so I suppose you two might as well wait here. Grab another drink if y’all want, and I’ll meet you back here.”

The older man quickly exited the saloon, leaving Arthur in Maebh’s company. He turned to offer her a smile while she shrugged and asked. “Want’a grab a table?”

“Sure. I could do with some food actually.”

“Me too, now that you mention it. How ’bout I get us a seat while you order the food?”

He nodded before reluctantly accepting the coins she pulled from her pocket. “What you want?”

“Whatever you’re havin’ is fine by me.”

He chuckled at her carefree attitude and approached the owner, asking what meals they had available. After some brief contemplation, he ordered two servings of roast beef and potatoes and, once they were ready, brought them to the nearby table Maebh had commandeered. An empty chair lay by the window, dappled in the early morning sunlight that poured in through the glass panels. His friend sat opposite him, eyes focused on the world outside as people opened their businesses and readied themselves for the day ahead. He studied her carefully as he set her food down in front of her. She was absentmindedly fiddling with a simple silver necklace that hung around her neck. The gesture made him curious, having seen her do this on numerous occasions, either when she was thinking or anxious.

“I thought I’d play it safe with the roast beef,” he announced, pulling her from her thoughts. “I know you like it, after all.”

“Thanks, Arthur,” she said as she took the cutlery he offered. “Smells good.”

“I’ve definitely had worse,” he admitted and sat down with a slight groan. “And at least it smells better than Pearson’s stew.”

“At first I didn’t understand why you’s all gave him such a hard time about his stew, and then I tried somethin’ of his that I didn’t help cook.” She pulled a face at the memory. “I’m now convinced most of the gang fund goes on salt.”

Having taken a bite of the beef, he reaffirmed her thoughts. “It ain’t competin’ with much, but it definitely ain’t got too much salt.”

“It’s good,” she agreed after her first mouthful. “And thankfully the seasonin’ isn’t giving me traumatic flashbacks.”

They eat together in silence for a few moments, Arthur feeling quite comfortable in her company. Outside, the residents of De Soto got to work. Slowly but surely, wagons and riders began to make their way up and down the muddy streets. A paper boy stood on the corner and read allowed the latest headlines for interested customers. Inside the saloon, a man sat nearby, strumming away on a guitar to entertain customers. It created a surprisingly calm atmosphere in such uncertain times for them. He hadn’t considered the idea that perhaps a normal activity such as grabbing a meal with a friend could help ease his mind. The only response he had prepared for was to get moving and ask questions later. He wondered how Maebh felt about all this, considering she had never been in a situation that involved moving camp so abruptly since she joined.

He bit the bullet and, once he finished the side of potatoes that came with his beef, spoke up. “So, I didn’t get a chance to pick your brain much earlier.”

She blinked at him curiously. “About what?”

“Last night, really. And everything that comes with it. I’m very much used to this life, but you haven’t been in it all that long.”

She took a small sup of beer before answering. “I don’t think anyone would be used to an encounter like that.”

“Well, ya ain’t wrong ’bout that.”

“That Matthew fella gives me the heebie-jeebies. He knew _way_ too much about us. He managed to uncover so much information in such a short amount of time… I mean, _I_ didn’t even know that Bill’s name is feckin’ _Marion!”_ She sighed heavily and ran a hand over her brow in contemplation. “He snuck into camp and stole William’s watch, before sneakin’ back that night me and Marston saw him and put it in front of Dutch’s tent. _Then_ he drags his own man into camp and shoots him after tellin’ us to leave. Even if you’ve been in this way longer than me, I doubt you’ve encountered someone like _that_.”

He couldn’t lie to her, not even if he wanted to. “I’ve seen my fair share a’characters, but I ain’t met none like him…”

“Exactly. What else does he know ’bout us? What if he knows more than he’s lettin’ on?”

“It might sound harsh, Maebh, but we don’t have no way’a knowin’ that unless he approaches us again. Ain’t no point worryin’ ’bout somethin’ that might not happen. You sound like you got somethin’ to hide.”

Though he had been teasing her with his words, the young woman frowned. “Me and William don’t exactly have the cleanest past.”

Arthur huffed. “And you think any of us do? We’ve all done things to survive or made mistakes that we might not be proud of. What makes you and your brother any different?”

As she mulled over his words, he thought back to when he had first encountered them in Wisconsin — sleeping rough and stealing to feed themselves. He still knew little of her past, bar some details about her parents and her relationship with them. Meeting their old family friend Mícheál had only increased his curiosity in their upbringing and whatever things they may have been hiding. While he still held small suspicions, they had given him no reason to suspect any sort of treachery.

“I dunno,” she admitted, slicing through the beef with her knife. “I guess I’m worried what you might think of some’a the stuff we’ve done.”

“It don’t matter,” he reassured her, the urge to pacify any worrisome thoughts she may have consuming him. “What matters is your loyalty to us _now_. Y’know, we ain’t exactly _good_ in the eyes of most people, but we’re just tryin’ to survive. Sometimes we do dumb shit we regret later on, but you can learn from it. We all got our own secrets. As Dutch always says, it’s the here and now you gotta focus on, and right now, we’re all in this together. Stick with us and you’ll be alright. This life ain’t easy sometimes, but it’s the best we’re gonna get and better than what we had. Whatever secrets you got, it’s your own choice to share ’em if and when you’re ready.”

The small smile she gave him was a reassuring one. At this point, he had begun to recognise when she would be forcing a smile rather than actually expressing genuine happiness. Those gestures seemed to seldom appear and usually they were only ever shown to William when the two would spend time together. The one reason why seeing that expression made him happy was because he knew now that his words had managed to calm her racing mind, even just a little bit.

“You’re right,” she said as she tossed one of her last cuts of beef into her mouth. “Life isn’t easy, but it’s sure as hell easier with you lot around.”

“That’s the attitude I was lookin’ for, girl. At least good food and beer can make it easier too. Speakin’ of, you want another bottle?”

“What about Dutch?”

Arthur was already standing and waving away her concern. “He’ll probably be a little while, trust me. I’ll get us another round.”

He hurriedly bought two more beers, brushing off the money she had attempted to give him. He set them down on the table and took his seat again, deciding to try his luck with another round of questioning. “How ’bout this. What exactly _can_ you tell me ’bout where you came from? Only the stuff you’re comfortable with.”

She raised a brow. “You’re gonna have’ta meet me halfway if you want that kinda information.”

Though he knew she was messing around, he went along with it. “Well Jesus, I bought you a drink, didn’t I? Ain’t that enough?”

“Are you jokin’? And waste an opportunity to learn more ’bout the _elusive_ Arthur Morgan? I’d be daft to miss that chance!”

Knowing that she definitely wouldn’t tell him anything without receiving something in return, he conceded. “Alright. If you’re gonna twist my arm about it, I guess I’ll agree.”

“Grand so.” She grinned, happy with the arrangement. Leaning back in her seat, she continued. “What’s the play here? Anythin’ we shouldn’t ask?”

“How ’bout,” Arthur began. “If either of us ain’t comfortable with somethin’, we justsay so and don’t answer. Sound fair?”

“I think so, but I get to go first.”

“Should’a seen that one comin’. Ask away.”

She didn’t even seem to think before asking her question. “What did you want’a be when you were a kid?”

“Uh, I ain’t too sure. I always liked horses as a very young kid. Used to think I’d like to work as a stableboy on a ranch somewhere if it meant I could groom and feed horses.”

“Why is that not at all surprising?” She smiled at his honestly before asking. “Did your da work on a ranch?”

He let out a bitter chuckle. “Naw, my daddy was… an outlaw. A _known_ one too. I didn’t know much about him when I was younger, but I figured it out when I was around ten. He was arrested for robbin’ and thievin’. Not really a good man by any means.”

Maebh seemed the slightest bit surprised though she didn’t show it much. “Oh, right. So… why is it different with you, then?”

“Whatchu mean?”

“You said your da was no good as an outlaw, but aren’t we all outlaws too? Does that mean we’re not good either?”

“I never said we was _good_,” he replied with shrug. “I mean, we ain’t like my daddy though. He wasn’t a very nice man — I suppose that’s a better way to say it. He didn’t hit me or nothin’, but we never really got on. He was killed when I was a teenager over somethin’ illegal. I ain’t really sure how he treated my mama neither, but I don’t remember too much about her. She died when I was very young so he tried to take care of me, but it wasn’t easy and he didn’t always do his best.”

He paused, allowing himself to think of what few details he could remember about his mother. Maebh sat across from him in silence for a brief moment, allowing him to reminisce in peace. “Your mam… Is she in one of the pictures you keep in your tent? The one of the woman with her hair tied back in the white blouse?”

“You got a good eye, Miss Maebh.”

“I mean, William would just say I’m nosy, but I copped it ’cause you two have similar features. What happened to her?”

“I ain’t rightly sure,” he admitted. “She might’a been sick. I was only a kid at the time, and my daddy didn’t talk much of her after she passed. It seemed to eat him alive though. I ain’t rightly sure if he cared about me, but he seemed to care about my mama.”

“I’m sorry. It’s… really tough losin’ a parent.”

“I suppose you’re speakin’ from experience?”

“Surprisingly, yeah.”

“What happened to your folks, then? I know you told Dutch when we first met that they died a while back. Is that true?”

“Unfortunately,” she admitted, keeping her tone even. “Our ma died before we left Ireland, and then our da passed nearly a year before we met you’s.”

He noted that she had originally told him that both of her parents had taken them to America, but maybe she said that because she would rather avoid getting into details. It wasn’t a very big thing to lie about given the circumstances, he supposed. “I’m sorry for your loss too. I can tell by the way you tell stories that you were close.”

“Very.” Her lips formed a half smile as she presumably pondered her own fond memories. “Me and William were home-schooled on our farm and taught how to keep the place runnin’. Huntin’, farmin’, fishin’, cookin’, cleanin’, shootin’, lookin’ after the cows and horses. They taught us how to read and write, and how to speak Irish and English. They taught me everythin’ I know so I could get by if anythin’ happened to them.”

“You had smart folks. I know you told me before that you came to America ’cause they wanted to avoid all that business with the English. Is that true?”

She sighed and began to run a finger around the edge of her nearly empty plate of food. The rhythmic movement continued as she replied with her answer. “Yeah, mostly. They didn’t like the way they had rejected the Home Rule bill, but my parents also had their own personal qualms with the Brits.”

“Oh?”

“Big ‘_oh_’. They were Fenians.”

Arthur repeated the unfamiliar word. He recalled them both saying it sometimes, but he didn’t have a clue what it really meant. He had even heard it sometime before he met the siblings if his memories were right. He was fairly sure that Hosea knew more about it than him, though. “Fenians?”

“Members of _Bráithreachas Phoblacht na hÉireann_, or Irish Republican Brotherhood in English. It was an organisation dedicated to formin’ an independent democratic republic in Ireland and gettin’ the Brits out. Our ma and da were members, so we grew up hearin’ our fair share of patriotic stories. They kinda had a similar thought process to Dutch because they never trusted those who ruled over Ireland As far as I know, they met each other at different meetin’s when they were young and fell in love.”

He couldn’t help but let out a long drawn ‘_ah_’. “Now I understand where you two get it from! I should’ve guessed your damn passion and resilience came from rebel parents.”

“So it’s not at all surprisin’ then?”

“Once I got it all laid out for me, no. I’m sure they had some fine stories too tell.”

“That they did,” she replied fondly. “Which probably has a lot to do with why I loved writin’ stories so much.”

“You’ll have to tell me some of those one day,” he began and then quickly reiterated another point. “If you’re comfortable, that is.”

“Maybe we can do it again over a few drinks. If you’re comfortable hearin’ their patriotic ramblin’s. But _that_ round will be on me this time.”

“O’course. I ain’t gonna say no to a free drink.”

“Grand.” She glanced out the window briefly, then added. “I’m not goin’ t’ask you much more, but could you answer one more question for me, Arthur?”

“To the best of my ability,” he said. “Yes.”

“What were your parents’ names?”

He didn’t know why the question made him smile a little, but it did. It was a simple thing to ask, not something that required a lot of thought or depth in response — they were just names, after all. But, for some reason, it was a query he was happy she had asked. It wasn’t something that would give her much information, but it was still a personal detail about his life that she wished to know. It would offer her nothing to gain, no knowledge to hang over his head — only a small personal detail about his past.

“I’ll tell you mine,” he began. “If you tell me yours.”

His response seemed to rouse some amusement from her. “Alright, cowboy. That seems fair.”

There was a few beats of silence between them in which neither broke eye contact. Eventually, he cleared his throat. “Beatrice and Lyle.”

She nodded slowly, tapping on her plate again. “Aoife and Séamus.”

Again, a silence before the two of them started to laugh at the ridiculous arrangement. Feeling quite relaxed for the first time since the invasion at camp, he raised his bottle to her. Without a word, she raised hers and tipped the glass rims together with a clink. 

Arthur had been wise in his estimation, because Dutch ended up taking longer than even he had anticipated. He and Maebh had moved on to other subject matter and were sharing a laugh when he reappeared, but they were moreso surprised to see him with a woman on his arm.

He greeted them by name before introducing his companion. “This is Annabelle.”

_Oh._

He immediately recognised her from the night at this very saloon. Her long, blonde hair and red lips were defining features that he hadn’t forgotten. She was stunning, something that didn’t surprise him considering Dutch always seemed to be able to snag good-looking women with his charm and experience. By her fair but aged features, he assumed that she was perhaps only a few years older than Arthur was himself. Over her shoulder was a small travel bag that looked to be full — of what, he had no idea.

Dutch decided to make the introductions. “Dear, this is Arthur Morgan and Maebh Hennigan.”

“I could have guessed,” Annabelle replied and politely shook their hands. There was something oddly confident yet welcoming about her. “A pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you two.”

“Well in that case I apologise for what you’ve heard,” Arthur joked. “Nice to meet ya.”

Maebh offered her another friendly greeting before Dutch finally explained what she was doing there. “Before that Matthew feller came to camp, Annabelle and I had been talkin’ ’bout her joinin’ the gang. With the sudden change of plan, I wanted to talk to her ’bout whether she still wanted to. Turns out, she ain’t got no problem comin’ along to South Dakota.”

“Really?” Arthur asked with a little surprise.

“Sure,” Annabelle answered casually. “I’d be a fool to let a catch like him run off now wouldn’t I? That and I could do with a little adventure in my life. I haven’t a problemwith cookin’ and cleanin’ either, considerin’ it’s all I do right now.”

“What _do_ you do?” Maebh questioned her. “You mustn’t be too fond of it if you’re up for runnin’ off with a bunch of outlaws.”

“I used to have a business before my husband decided to up and leave me one day. He sold it without my knowledge and took all the money with him. I woke up to find him gone and our general store sold to the highest bidder. I haven’t seen him in months, and hopefully I never see him again. I’ve been doin’ some house keepin’ jobs a few towns over.”

The young woman frowned at her story, visibly appalled. “What a prick.”

Annabelle seemed to find her reaction entertaining, but sighed in agreement. “You’re tellin’ me. Our home was above the store and got sold as well, so I had to start livin’ in the local hotel. Luckily I knew the owner so he didn’t charge me as much as I should have been payin’. After all that, I could do with somethin’ new and a little joy.”

“Well, you’ll certainly find both’a those things with us,” Dutch added. “And a better life than the one that was stolen from you. Now—” He addressed Arthur and Maebh. “—if you too are all finished up here, we ran into the rest of the gang on our way back over. It’s time for us to move on.”

His urgency was enough to get them up and out of their seats. Arthur watched as Maebh tossed a small tip the owner’s way before following them outside. Beside the very hotel Annabelle had mentioned earlier, he could see the wagons and various horses that belonged to him and his family. He grinned at the sight of Copper sitting between Bessie and Hosea atop one of the gang’s wagons. A sleeping Pádraig was kept in the back of one, wrapped up in varies blankets and bandages. Having been handed their mounts’ reins — Annabelle using her own that had been hitched outside the hotel itself — the group of outlaws set off on their journey, heading north-east to their destination of Fulton, South Dakota, now with yet another member to strengthen their ranks.

A few hours into their journey and spirits were high but still somewhat reserved. The weather had remained thankfully clear, but guaranteed to be colder once the sun had set. Pearson took to tossing the odd piece of fruit to any gang member riding a horse who complained about being hungry. He was unwilling, however, to toss beer when Uncle requested it from his seat on the back of one of the wagons.

“Y’all don’t treat me right,” the old man declared in disgust. “I ain’t never met folk who acted so unkindly to the elderly. Never mind that I’m sick too.”

“You ain’t sick,” John snapped from his saddle. “But you’re sure as hell _annoyin’_, _that’s_ what you are.” 

Arthur laughed at the exchange, but Uncle didn’t let up. “Of course I’m sick! Y’know, I used to do more work than anyone before I threw my back out and—”

“Not this shit again…”

“Lumbago ain’t no joke, John! It can affect anyone’a us. You’re lucky it ain’t got you yet!” 

“It ain’t gonna _get_ me ’cause it ain’t _real!”_

“Oh, you lot really are goin’ sour lately. I’m just lookin’ for a damn pick me up. If ya ain’t gonna entertain me with some alcohol, you might as well give me a song, or somethin’. Where’s William when you need him?”

At the sound of his name, Maebh’s brother appeared atop Banquo and asked. “Did I hear my name comin’ from your lips, Old Man, or is my luck improvin’?”

“Sing us a song, would’ja, kid? We could do with some entertainment on this never-endin’ trip.”

“Humour him, William,” Dutch called from the other wagon ahead of them. “God knows I don’t wanna listenin’ to his complainin’ the whole way to Fulton!”

William shrugged, but couldn’t exactly pass up an opportunity for some fun. “You have one in mind?”

“Can I make a request?” Bessie called from her seat beside her husband and the dog.

“Always.”

“How about the where the young man is goin’ off to war? I do like that one.”

“For you, Mrs Matthews, of course I can. But you’ll have to sing along.”

“I ain’t gonna deny you that, Mr Hennigan.”

“What about you, Arthur? You have’ta join in as well.”

Unwilling to tell him otherwise, Arthur replied. “Sure, kid. You get us started.”

It was something Arthur always found amusing about the young man. He was so very standoffish to those he didn’t know, and mostly distant to a degree with anyone who wasn’t his sister. And yet, despite the obvious fact that he was quite a difficult man to read, he loved to perform. Any time he was called upon to deliver a tune, he would do so if he felt like it. Arthur often saw him singing to himself while cleaning his saddle at camp. He was so incredibly analytical and would watch people like a hawk if they peaked his curiosity, and yet he would happily express himself in an oddly personal way. He hoped that someday he would get the chance to talk to to William like he did with Maebh today. Perhaps he too grew up with dreams of something bigger. In the grand scheme of how ruthless life could be, he was happy to see someone so young embracing something that brought them joy.

With a deep breath, William began the tune on his own.

“_A recruiting sergeant came our way_

_From an inn near town at the close of day_

_He said my Johnny you're a fine young man_

_Would you like to march along behind a military band?_

_With a scarlet coat and a fine cocked hat_

_And a musket at your shoulder_

_The shilling he took and he kissed the book_

_Oh poor Johnny what'll happen to ya?_

_The recruiting sergeant marched away_

_From the inn near town at the break of day_

_Johnny came too with half a ring_

_He was off to be a soldier to go fighting for the King_

_In a far off war in a far off land_

_To face the foreign soldier_

_But how will you fare when there's lead in the air?_

_Oh poor Johnny what'll happen to ya?_

_Well the sun rose high on a barren land_

_Where the thin red line made a military stand_

_There was sling shot, chain shot, grape shot too_

_Swords and bayonets thrusting through_

_Poor Johnny fell but the day was won_

_And the King is grateful to ya_

_But your soldiering's done and they're sending you home_

_Oh poor Johnny what'll happen to ya?_

_They said he was a hero and not to grieve_

_For the two ruined legs and the empty sleeve_

_They took him home and they set him down_

_With a military pension and a medal from the crown_

_But you haven't an arm, you haven't a leg_

_The enemy nearly slew ya_

_You'll have to go out on the streets to beg_

_Oh poor Johnny what'll happen to ya?”_

The song continued on, as did their journey northwards. Uncle, Pearson, and a few others joined in as it progressed, as was usually the way when a singalong began. It would take a few days of course, but Arthur didn’t mind all that much when he had such good company around him. It seemed, despite the intensity with which their day began, that the gang had high hopes with what was ahead. Saying goodbye to the nice spot they had called home was disappointing sure, but nothing Arthur wasn’t used to. They made their home wherever they went, so onwards they would push, shanties and all.


	12. Who the Hell is Colm O'Driscoll?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang settle in a new spot in South Dakota, and Maebh and William are tasked with getting whatever information they can from the injured O'Driscoll boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, fellers! Hope you enjoy the new chapter. I seem to be incapable of writing anything that isn't in and around six thousand words, my bad. You's will just have to go with it like I am. Feel free to leave any and all thoughts or criticisms and all that, if you so please. I love hearing what you guys think about this lil ol' story!  
Sidenote, have any Irish readers been following our elections results? I get the feeling Maebh and William would appreciate them haha Yup the Left!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “In Dreams” — Ben Howard, “Ebb and Flow” — The Dead Tongues, “Way Down We Go” — KALEO, “Supernatural Soliciting” — Jed Kurzel

** _20th September, 1893, outside Fulton, South Dakota_ **

_I figured I might as well give this journalling thing a go, considering Arthur was so kind as to buy me a notebook to work with. This is sure to be one hell of a first entry, let me tell you…_

<strike> _Do I address this to myself? Or do I even need to introduce it because I’m writing it for my own sake? Right, I’ve already made a mess of this! Jesus_ </strike>

_Right, so, let’s try that again._

_We had to leave Iowa, and by ‘we’ I mean the whole gang. This guy showed up at camp, and believe me when I tell you that I’ve never met a creepier person in my short life. He went by Matthew, but I’m not even entirely sure that _ _is_ _ his real name. He had been watching us for a while and also turned out to be the person who had stolen William’s pocket watch. Apparently, we had caused a lot of problems for another local gang that he runs with called the O’Driscolls. Their leader wasn’t impressed with us, so he gave us an ultimatum — move on, or die. A simple choice, and Dutch made the right one; he said he would never put our lives so needlessly at risk and I’m not exactly surprised, but I’m still grateful. At first I thought it was someone from Wisconsin who had finally found William and I, but I suppose that might be my paranoia and egotism breaking through._

_Not only had this Matthew guy shown up and seemingly known lots of details about our lives, but he dragged a familiar face along with him. It turns out that the Proddy lad whose nose I broke in the saloon in De Soto — “Pádraig” — is an O’Driscoll, and their leader wasn’t chuffed with his inability to rob a train… Maybe because we robbed it first! Either way, Matthew shot him and left immediately afterwards so that we could do whatever we wanted with him. Though some people — like Marston — protested the idea of seeing Pádraig being kept alive, Dutch managed to save him with help from Miss Grimshaw and the Reverend. He seems stable now, but we’ll see what happens. Do I trust this guy at all? Absolutely not._

_Since then, we’ve moved on to a new camping spot. We travelled up to South Dakota, which took a few days. The weather had been pretty rough on the second which slowed us down somewhat, but thankfully we reached our destination in fairly good time. We’re now camped outside of a small town near Fulton, with a population of about 100 residents. It’s a nice spot, sheltered by trees and right beside Fulton Lake. North-east is Fulton town, not at all a far distance on horseback, and to the west is the city of Mitchell which is far bigger than our other neighbouring settlement. I’ve heard it has about two and a half thousand inhabitants, but it might come in handy for certain things down the line, who knows. Either way, our new camping spot is nice and gives me the opportunity to admire the smooth green landscape of Davison and Hanson county. It’s all rolling hills and fertile soil around here, quite similar to parts of Iowa… Not that I’m complaining. We arrived quite late last night and I’m writing this the following morning, so it’s nice to get a look at our new surroundings in some early morning light. It’s incredible how the difference between night and day can colour a landscape. While I’m used to having to move around and stay on my toes, I think — or at least, I hope — I will like it here._

_Speaking of new things, we’ve also acquired a new gang member. No, not that Proddy bastard, but Dutch’s new mot, Annabelle. He had been courting this woman for a while back in Iowa, and upon telling her that he had to move on, she asked to join. She has an infuriating backstory that I heard some of back when our journey began, but I have to admit, I’ve taken a liking to her. Being honest, it’s hard to _ _not_ _ like her. Despite being a fish out of water, she seems really eager to settle into this new lifestyle. At first, I assumed she was moving purely to stay with Dutch, but it seems that she was eager for a new life with new surroundings. I guess the Van der Linde Gang handed her such an opportunity on a platter. We’ve chatted a bit on the way over here, and I can see why Dutch has a thing for her. She seems to be able to match him in any conversation as if they have been together for years. It’s refreshing to see him content in a woman’s company. William seems to have taken a liking to her as well, and I would trust his intuition above anyone’s. He’s also happier since we left Iowa and Matthew behind. He hasn’t been himself since Da’s pocket watch went missing in the first place, so I think new surroundings have done him a world of good._

_Before we left our last camp, I got to have a chat with Arthur over some food. We spoke of our parents — a personal subject of course and I certainly spared particular details on my end. It was quite insightful and interesting to hear more about his upbringing. He’s quite strange, that man. I value his friendship highly, and he has been a constant source of advice and easing words since we joined the gang. But still, his rough exterior is one that he seems to think encapsulates his entire being. Parts of him are still a mystery to me, and I’m a little surprised by how much I yearn to hear more about why he is the way he is. He shies away from compliments and will sometimes deny them to the ground. I often think that perhaps he had a bad experience to make him believe he is unworthy of the good things people see in him. While I don’t like to admit my nosiness, he keeps a photo of a young woman in his tent. I’ve never heard him talk about her, or any women romantically for that matter, but I wonder if she has anything to do with those trips he takes every few months… I feel that I could spend an age contemplating Arthur Morgan’s character, so perhaps it’s best to just let sleeping dogs lie as Bessie advised. Still, maybe there’s no harm in more conversations over dinner. That was certainly fun._

_Either way, I’m trying to keep a positive attitude with this new chapter in our lives. What else can one do with it but keep moving forward?_

* * *

Maebh shut her new journal and looked up from its place in her lap. She was sitting on her bedroll, looking out into the new camp. It was early morning, the day after they first arrived. The weather was still warm, but grew cooler each night, hinting at a colder Autumn’s imminent arrival. Even still, the sun managed to peak through the clouds and bounce off the shimmering lake’s water. Everyone’s tents were set up and the group seemed mostly settled at this point. A spare tent was set up beside the Reverend that was currently housing a sleeping and recovering Pádraig. She couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious at the sight of him. Dutch had given her ample warning before what she would be assisting with today.

Upon hearing her name being called, she looked up to find Dutch and William waiting for her just outside their tent. “You ready to give us a hand here?”

She had to talk to that Pádraig fella… Or at least _try_ to. He was still recuperating from a severe beating and a gunshot wound. She was half convinced he wouldn’t survive the journey between states, and maybe part of her had _hoped_ he wouldn’t, but here he was at camp, slowly healing from an injury at the hands of his own comrade… It was a sick twist she hadn’t predicted, nor one she wanted to witness.

“I guess,” she sighed, not doing much to hide her displeasure. Standing with her hands on her hips, she peered at the sleeping figure. “You want me to do it now?”

William frowned before adding. “Remind me again why you want her to talk to him?”

Dutch replied. “It ain’t nothin’ personal, son, but you two have more in common with him than I might, and Maebh has spoken with him already, so at least she is a familiar face.”

“It’s not like they got along when they did.”

“O’course,” Dutch agreed. “And I knew you would be protective over her as per usual, which is why I asked you to stay with her while they talk. He ain’t gonna be able to do nothin’ with you around, let alone with his current injuries anyway. And you know as well as I do that she can hold her own.”

“Trust me, I know she can. But that isn’t goin’ t’stop me from smashin’ that lad’s teeth in if he puts a hand on her.”

With a smirk, the older man pulled a cigar from his pocket. “And _that_ attitude is exactly why you’re gonna stay with her. Ain’t no better pair in this camp.” He paused to light his cigar, took a puff, then continued. “Now, Miss Maebh, you know what to talk to him about — you gotta confirm all the information the saloon owner shared to make sure he checks out. I ain’t got no problem savin’ folk — you two know that well — but if he’s to be trusted, he needs to tell the truth.He said he would tell us anythin’, so hold him to his word. If he’s bullshittin’, you sniff it out. And if he’s lyin’ then you can break his nose again and you—” He nodded to William. “—can smash his teeth in. That sound good?”

She brushed some hair out of her eyes and shrugged. “Delightful.”

“Good. I’ll be in my tent if ya need me.”

With that, Dutch left them to it. Maebh shared a look with her brother, who still seemed unamused with the task ahead. Though his face appeared hardened, she knew he was quite bothered with the arrangement. “Are you sure you want’a do this?”

Maebh reached out to give his hand a squeeze. “We all have’ta do our bit, right?”

“Let’s just do it quickly.”

She agreed, eager enough to get the interaction out of the way. They approached his tent together and upon closer inspection, she could see that Pádraig was definitely sleeping. He lay on the bedroll, his head and injured shoulder propped up on a large pillow. His shoulder was bandaged with care and placed in a sling though his face was littered with swelling and bruises, darkening as time progressed. Since she had seen him in the saloon, his clean-shaven jaw was now covered with a thick layer of dark stubble, matching the thick brown mop of hair on his head. She wasn’t entirely sure whether he was frowning in his sleep, or the dark colour of his bruises were painting an illusion of discontent. Deciding to play it safe, she chose to squat down next to the injured man — close but not too close — while William remained standing over him, resting on arm on one of the wooden beams that kept the lean-to upright. She called his name, but he remained unmoved. Throwing a glance at William, who shrugged in response and then lightly kicked Pádraig’s feet. He woke with a start, dark blue eyes wild with confusion.

When his gaze landed on Maebh, she offered him a slight inclination of the head. “_Dia dhuit ar maidin._”

She felt somewhat amused as he tried to steady his breathing, but he replied in kind. His voice held a groggy and hesitant edge. “_Dia dhuit._”

“Do you remember me?”

He huffed, wincing as he adjusted himself on the bedroll. “It’s hard to forget someone who broke your nose.”

“I’m sure. At least I made a lastin’ impression on you.”

“If you wanna call it that.”

She studied him carefully as he began to relax a little again. She was surprised that he seemed to trust her not to attack him again, although she supposed she had little reason to do anything to him now. “Considerin’ you didn’t get my name before, I’m Maebh and that’s my brother, William.”

Pádraig gave the other man tiny wave while William merely eyed him curiously. “Howiya.”

“How’s the shoulder?” Maebh asked and then pointed to his numerous bruises and cuts. “And the, eh, face?”

“Sore,” he admitted. “But I suppose that’s what happens when you get bloody shot and battered ’round, right?”

“What did you do to earn such a hefty beatin’? Was it really over a train robbery?”

He hummed positively. “You don’t go back to the O’Driscoll Boys empty handed. I’m lucky I didn’t lose my bleedin’ hands altogether.”

“He did leave you here with us hopin’ that we’d kill you though.”

He paused and then quickly replied. “That’s true and I’m really grateful that you lot _have_ kept me alive. I know that other fella, I think I heard you call him John, sayin’ he didn’t want me ’round, and I don’t entirely blame him. But I owe Mr Van der Linde with my life.”

“That’s the kinda person Dutch is. He saves the ones who deserve it, so you best show him that you deserved savin’.”

“Is that why you’re both here to talk to me?” When she narrowed her eyes at him, he continued. “Well I hardly expected you were here to strike up a friendship.”

“I’m not goin’ t’lie to you, so yeah, we’re here to ask you about your former gang.”

Pádraig let his head rest back on the pillow and stared up at the sky only partially visible from his bedroll. “I’m not exactly in a position to lie.”

“Too right,” William echoed with a blank expression. The implication of his words was definitely not lost on Maebh. “So talk.”

“What do you’s want to know?”

“You’re awful eager to start talkin’,” William noted. “Aren’t you worried ’bout bein’ a rat?”

The Northern Irish man clicked his tongue. “Look, I wasn’t exactly very high up in the rankings within the gang, so I can’t tell you many intimate details, but I’ll tell you what I _do_ know. Sure, I know where the gang’s hideouts are back in Iowa, but you lot have moved on. You don’t exactly need those kinda details, right? Now, if I _did_ help you’s to lead some sort of assault on their camps and they found me, _then_ I’d be royally fucked.”

“Tell us about the gang in general,” Maebh elaborated, ignoring his rant and moving to take a more comfortable seat on the ground below. “We’ve got nothin’ to go off so give us a startin’ point. Just the ins and outs of how many men there are, where you’s work, who for, and all that.”

William added his own query. “And who that Matthew fella is too.”

Pádraig cleared his throat and began to tell them what he could. “When it comes to how many men, I’d say they’ve got too many, and they’re all mostly expendable. Some of them have businesses as doctors or gunsmiths, which helped a lot in terms of keepin’ an army of men healthy and armed. It’s kinda on the nose, but they wear shit tonnes of green and black, so that’s a good way to spot them when you’re out and about. They’re ruthless and couldn’t give a shit who they need to kill to get what they want. It’s all in the name of fightin’ order and the government and all that bollocks, so they can get really high and mighty ’bout it all. They kill to survive, but some of them damn well enjoy doin’ it. They’ve got strongholds in most of Iowa bar some of the more northwestern counties passed Waterloo. I heard talk that they had recently expanded down into Missouri, but never saw those camps myself. I pretty much stayed in Iowa the entire time I was a member. When it comes to who we worked for, we really just took orders from those above us, like Matthew, who you had the pleasure of meetin’ already.”

What Pádraig was saying had checked out so far. Though the saloon owner had little information to offer them, it matched up with this new declaration. She didn’t trust the former O’Driscoll, but she was at least mildly relieved that he wasn’t trying his luck yet. If complications could be avoided, she would much rather avoid them. 

With the mention of Matthew, it seemed like an opportune moment for her to find out more about the mysterious harbinger. “What exactly is his role?”

“I don’t know the ins and outs of it, but he sort of came back and forth between camps and the boss with messages and jobs. He would come with orders from up above and we would follow. He oversaw a lot of the work too to make sure that it was gettin’ done properly.”

Maebh listened intently, insides twisting as she pictured Matthew’s unsettling grin that night at camp. “He sounds like a herald or somethin’.”

“That would be accurate,” Pádraig agreed. “He definitely considers himself to be one.”

“And who’s the ‘boss’ you all work for?”

The brunette frowned, his eyes showing thoughts that seemed a world away. “That would be Colm.”

“_Who?”_ William asked after a few beats of silence. His face contorted into an expression of pure confusion.

“Colm O’Driscoll,” Pádraig repeated, baffled by his reaction. “The boss?”

Maebh was equally confused by the name he was saying. She had honestly never heard of it before in her life. “_Coalm?”_

“Look, his name is Colm,” Pádraig sighed, saying the name in its correct Irish pronunciation before reverting back to the previous one. “But he’s Irish-American so he says it the way it’s spelled, like _Coalm_.”

“Hold on,” she began, mildly irked by the bastardisation of the Irish name. “What kinda twat says it like that? It’s pronounced _Collum_.”

“Don’t give out to me ’bout it — it’s already bothered me for months.”

Maebh looked to her brother, who seemed equally insulted my the mispronunciation of the name Colm. Regardless, she continued with her questioning and stuck to the Irish way for saying the name. “So, who is this Colm O’Driscoll fella?”

“Some aul fella who decided to start up a gang,” Pádraig explained, expression visibly souring. She noticed his knuckles growing white as he grasped at the blanket covering his frame. “He’s an exceptionally cruel outlaw who has travelled all over the West with his brother, Eóghan.”

_At least they pronounce Eóghan correctly, _she momentarily thought to herself and then listened as he continued on.

“They clash apparently, but Colm is definitely the one in charge. He’s a mean bastard I’ve only met a few times, but he can be awful cynical. If you’re on his good side then you best keep it that way. Piss him off, and it’s like talkin’ to a damn devil. He’s no problem makin’ an example out of men, just look at me. I’ve seen him kill men for less. But that’s honestly all I know about him — we weren’t exactly havin’ lunch together every Sunday.”

“It’s a shame you couldn’t have been a higher up with more information,” William pondered from his spot. “Then keepin’ you alive would’ve been worthwhile.”

At that moment, Pádraig looked William in the eye, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth. “If I had more to tell you, Matthew would’ve definitely killed me. As I told you — we’re expendable in every sense of the word.”

“Is there anythin’ else you _can_ tell us?”

“I’d like to say I’m sorry ’bout the saloon,” he replied unexpectedly. “And for thinkin’ you were, eh, _on the job_, so to speak. Uh, and for callin’ you a bitch…”

She could feel her brother watching her carefully as she chose her reply. “I meant in terms of useful information, mister.”

“I know what you meant but I still wanted to say it,” he explained, expression softening slightly despite his marred appearance. “If I’m goin’ to stay here for the time bein’, I might as well try make amends.”

“Look, I couldn’t give a fiddler’s flute whether you thought I was a prostitute or not; I don’t think of it as an insult. But what I _did_ find insultin’ was how you decided to speak to me because you thought I was one. And if I hear you talkin’ to any of the ladies ’round here like that, I’ll have no problem defendin’ them.”

“Consider me warned,” he said, deep lines forming in his forehead as he frowned. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good, ’cause we don’t have time for arseholes in this gang. I know you say things were pretty ruthless with the O’Driscoll Boys, but that’s not how we do things ’round here” She gave her brother a nod as she got to her feet. “Anyway, we’ll let you get some rest for the moment. I’m sure we’ll be talkin’ again soon.”

William offered him no temporary farewell and simply took his place beside his sister and followed her lead. Despite their desire to leave the conversation, Pádraig’s voice called after them.

“I know you don’t like me,” he exclaimed just as they began to walk away. Maebh halted and then turned back to see him watching them. “I know you don’t like me, and I don’t exactly blame ye for it. But after what happened in Iowa, those O’Driscoll Boys don’t like me either. I don’t have things to tell you that could be used to your advantage, but if I did, they would’ve killed me. They’ll always hate me more than you do so I’m willin’ to take my chances with you lot instead. If stayin’ with this group keeps me away from Colm, Eóghan, and Matthew, then I’ll do what I can to make sure of that.”

Without saying another word, the siblings left the O’Driscoll alone in his tent and approached Dutch’s tent on the opposite side of camp. They repeated everything that they were told, agreeing that it all checked out and seemed legitimate. They couldn’t exactly compare the other information he had shared, but why would he lie about those details after already being truthful? Dutch seemed satisfied at least, which was the desired outcome.

“Do you trust him?” William had asked her when they were eating their lunch afterwards. “That O’Driscoll fella?”

Her reply was fairly straightforward and not at all surprising. “No.”

Later on that night when Maebh was alone with her thoughts, she couldn’t help but reminisce on their conversation. Something that bothered her was how uneasy Pádraig seemed when discussing Matthew and the two brothers at the helm of the O’Driscoll gang. She couldn’t imagine ever speaking about Dutch in the same manner. How lucky it was that she and William had crossed paths with him instead of someone like Colm O’Driscoll.

* * *

** _24th October, 1893, outside Fulton, South Dakota_ **

_It’s been over a month since we arrived at our new campsite and spirits seem high._

_The O’Driscoll has managed to survive his injuries but is still healing. He avoided infection and is resting up until his strength comes back but is still confined to that sling and a lot of bed rest. At least his face doesn’t look as beat up no more. He seems uncertain of most of the gang, but a little more relaxed around the Hennigans, which might be because of their shared nationality, I don’t know…_

_While we’ve been keeping on top of the camp funds with jobs here and there, I can’t help but be distracted by Bessie’s ongoing illness. She’s sick; _ _real sick__, and has been since before we left Winterset. She’s been gradually getting sicker as time passed and it’s gotten so bad that she and Hosea went into Mitchell to see a doctor. Apparently, he thinks it’s some sort of influenza and a combination of old age… It ain’t looking so good, and we’re not entirely sure what will come of it, or when exactly she’ll lose the strength to go on. Bessie seems to have already accepted her fate, but refuses to lay down and die. But that’s the kind of woman she always was — if she’s going to die, she’s going to be fighting until her last breath. I regret to think how Hosea will deal with the inevitable and I’d rather not think about it myself. She has been such an important part of this gang, and I doubt we would be where we are without her motherly influence and her articulate and astute advice._

_I will try to spend what time I can with her though, while I still have the chance._

* * *

“Hey, Arthur?”

At the sound of his name being called, Arthur put his journal away and looked up to see William standing outside of his tent. “Whatcha need, William?”

The younger man stroked his newly-bearded chin. “I need’ta have a word with Marston and was wonderin’ if you’d join me?”

“Why would you need me for that?”

“’Cause he’s goin’ t’have a go at me and I need you to back me up.”

Arthur blinked and then got to his feet. “Yeah, that sounds ’bout right. Lead the way.”

John sat whittling away by the fire as the pair approached, and he immediately grew suspicious as he spotted them. “Fellers.”

“Have you forgotten ’bout our agreement, Marston?” William asked, standing with his hands on his hips.

John appeared baffled. “Agreement?”

While Arthur tried to recall what said agreement could have been, William continued. “Don’t tell me that you’ve forgot about the race we had and the fact I _won_.”

John remained silent, then his eyes grew wide. “You ain’t cuttin’ my hair, Hennigan!”

William rolled his eyes at Arthur, proving his earlier point. “Eh, yeah, I am. We agreed.”

“The hell we did!”

“You made a bet, Marston,” Arthur added, clasping his belt buckle in his hands. “It’s only your damn hair. It’ll grow back.”

“But I _like_ my damn hair.”

“Really?” William asked, feigning concern. “Look, you tellin’ me that you wouldn’t’ve demanded my Litchfield if you’d won instead?”

If the look John gave his friend could kill, the whole camp would be dead. 

Arthur said his name in a long drawl. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he was getting quite a kick out of this. “A bet is a bet.”

John signed heavily. “Christ, _fine_. But if we’re doin’ this, we’re goin’ to a barber. I ain’t lettin’ _you_ near my hair.”

William was apparently chuffed with himself, and offered Arthur a genuine thank you as he and Marston mounted their horses and headed into Fulton to take care of the latter’s greasy locks. He watched them leave in amusement before he heard Pearson’s call that it was feeding time. One by one, each of the gang grabbed their own serving and took a seat somewhere to fill their stomachs. As he approached the stew pot, he noticed Maebh grabbing two bowls and heading towards Hosea and Bessie’s shared tent. Inside, the woman was resting on her bedroll, propped up so that she could read despite her illness. She appeared both surprised and appreciative as Maebh handed her one of the bowls before taking a seat on the ground. Arthur pondered his options for a moment, but there was something so calming and warm about the scene in front of him that he couldn’t help but feel a slight pull in urgency to join them. Perhaps it was due to Bessie’s deteriorating health, or his genuine fondness for them both… Either way, he found himself grabbing some food and approaching the tent. He tapped his knuckles on one of its wooden support beams and greeted them. “Knock, knock. Mind if I join ya?”

“You don’t have to ask, Mr Morgan,” Bessie answered happily and gestured to the free spot next to Maebh. “Have a seat.”

He took her advice and noticed the younger woman smiling knowingly as he sat. “Has my brother successfully dragged Marston into town?”

He let out a snort. “That he has. For the long awaited hair cut.”

Bessie seemed intrigued as she eat her stew. “John is gettin’ a hair cut?”

“Only ’cause he lost a bet with William, but yeah.”

She rolled her eyes and spoke in an exasperated tone. “Well it’s about damn time he did somethin’ with his hair! I love that boy, but by God, does he ever wash his hair?”

While Maebh burst out into laughter, Arthur replied. “I can’t answer that with certainty, Mrs Matthews.”

“Just don’t tell him I said that,” she added. “I don’t want to deal with the backlash.”

“Our lips are sealed. More importantly, how are you feelin’?”

Bessie let out a huff. “Oh, the usual. Tired and sore and tired of being so tired and sore. The doctor said that rest and stayin’ hydrated will help, but I still don’t feel like myself. I would much rather be able to go for a walk along the lake or go on a hunting trip with Hosea. I do miss those…”

The urge to insist that she could go on one of those trips once she was better sat on the tip of Arthur’s tongue, but he bit his lip to prevent the slip up. As the days passed, it was becoming more evident to everyone that this was probably something from which there was no coming back. Even still, most of them seemed to know but hated the fact that they knew. They had yet to lose a member of the gang, so the feeling was unfamiliar and upsetting.

“What one was your favourite?” Maebh asked, a query that had Arthur smiling. 

“Oh, that would have to be when Hosea and I briefly left the gang,” the older woman replied, idly stirring her spoon around her stew. “We spent some time in and around New Hanover and Ambarino. There’s a spot called O’Creagh’s Run where we settled for a bit, mostly for fishin’ and huntin’. We were out together one morning to find some deer, but weren’t expecting to have a run in with this massive grizzly bear. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life — he was a big bastard. Very big — he must have been nearly a thousand pounds, Hosea guessed! He managed to snag the buck we were stalking right before we could shoot it ourselves. I’ve never seen an animal like him since.”

“Please tell me you didn’t stay in the area after seein’ _that?”_ Maebh asked, looking mildly horrified.

“Of course we not, we left as soon as we could.”

“Ugh, good. At least I know to never go near that part of Ambarino if we ever find ourselves over there.”

Arthur threw her a wry look. “You scared o’bears or somethin’?”

The young woman frowned. “Who _isn’t_ scared of bears? They’re terrifying!”

“Half of the time they run when they see you. Bears don’t want no trouble neither.”

“Alright Mister ‘I’m Terrified of Alligators’.”

“You’re gonna judge me for _that?_ You ever seen the size of a gator’s mouth?”

“Bessie just told us that a thousand pound bear exists and you’re talkin’ ’bout the size of an alligator’s _mouth?”_

He shook his head, turning his attention back to his food. “I bet there’s a massive sonuvabitch gator out there somewhere, considerin’ nature is so goddamn scary.”

“Well hopefully you never meet him.”

“I bet I will now, just ’cause you said that.”

“You ever seen a big alligator on your travels, Bessie?” Maebh asked curiously.

“Thankfully no. You might see some down in Lemoyne, but we was never fond of spending too much time down there. Gators are okay to hunt once you’re at a safe distance because they’re a lot faster than they look.”

“Noted,” Maebh mused. “Stay away from O’Creagh’s Run and all of Lemoyne.”

“Maybe yourself and Arthur and William could go on a huntin’ trip up that way yourselves,” Bessie suggested with a smile. “Try to tackle that bear together.”

“Maybe someday if we have a death wish!”

The conversation flowed easily as they finished their meals, after which they were joined by Hosea who had been conversing with Dutch over the new information gathered from Pádraig. He seemed haggard, but always calm in his wife’s presence. He knew what was coming, but Arthur doubted he would ever be ready for it. How could anyone really be ready to lose a loved one? Despite the air of uncertainty, the four of them had a pleasant evening in each other’s company, musing on old stories that Hosea could tell in his usual vivid and engrossing manner. It was sometime later under a setting sun when William and John returned from their brief but important trip. Together, Arthur and Maebh exited the tent so that they could get a good look at a short-haired Marston. It had been years since he had seen him without greasy dark locks, but the look of displeasure on the young man’s face was what sent Arthur reeling with laughter.

“Well, lookatchu!” he managed to say between cackles.

“Knock it off, Morgan,” John snapped, folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Awh, why not? You clean up real good, Mr Marston,” Maebh teased him, reaching up to brush her fingers through the side of his head. “Oh! Is that a fade? With pomade?”

Her comment made him smirk, but he still gently slapped her hand away. “Hey! Quit it.”

“For _once_ I give you a compliment and you tell me to stop. There’s no pleasin’ you lot.”

Arthur shook his head at the exchange. “Good God, and you say you’re popular with the ladies? I think William did you a favour with the haircut — this way, all you need to do is hide your personality before gettin’ them into bed.”

“I’ve given you a gift,” William agreed and gave John a clap on the back. “They’ll be so distracted with your lovely hair that you’ve got some time before they realise what a dumbass you are.”

“Was I the only one actually givin’ him a genuine compliment?” Maebh asked. “’Cause all you two have done is slag him off.”

“He would do the same to me,” Arthur argued confidently. “And he knows it.”

John ran a hand through the uncharacteristically short hair on the back of his neck. “I ain’t sure I can trust your compliments, Miss Maebh. You tease me almost as much as your damn brother.”

William grinned and ruffled his friend’s new haircut in that annoying but affectionate way that an older brother could pull off. “But you love when I tease you, Lil Johnny.”

Arthur could imagine that John wished something would interrupt the fun being had at his expense; he could see it in his frustrated expression. But he very much doubted that he would be happy with the intrusion that was about to take place.

From across camp, Bill let out an urgent shout. “Dutch! We got company!”

Along with the call, but nowhere near as loud, was the distinct sound of casual whistling.

When their group turned to see what all the fuss was about, Arthur spotted Bill — who had been on guard duty that evening — repeater in hand and trudging through the tree line in the company of another man. 

Dutch was out of his tent in a hurry, joining his friend’s side to see what all the fuss was about. He looked on, squinting in the darkness, before going visibly rigid. “This sonuvabitch…”

As Arthur rested a hand on his holster, he settled his eyes on the visitor. He was distantly aware of Maebh muttering an expletive under her breath and instinctively took a step ahead of her. He barely heard what she had said, or what John was saying to him — all he could focus on was the familiar noise that had woken him with a start a few days previous. Dressed in the same dark suit and bowler hat as before, the visitor raised his head and met Arthur’s eyes almost instantly. He smiled eerily, an image Arthur had hoped he would never see again. And yet somehow they had been found yet again.

“Mr Morgan,” Matthew greeted him cheerily. “Ladies and gentlemen! So wonderful to see you again.”


	13. Something Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang face another creepy encounter with Matthew, and Arthur learns about the skeletons kept in Maebh's closet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a meaty boah. Nearly 8,500 words because god help me I'm trash. Apologies for its length, but I couldn't separate this chapter into sections without ruining the flow. This will just have to be one of the standalone long boahs. Thank you as always to the readers, commenters, and so on. I'm kinda thrilled you's are enjoying this trash heap so far. I have many a-plan, much like Dutch... Hopefully mine work out in the end at least.
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “The Yellow Leaf” — Jed Kurzel, “Zombie - Acoustic Version” — The Cranberries, “Fleeting Joy” — Woody Jackson & Colin Stetson, “Don’t Be What They Made You” — Marco Beltrami, “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” — Brooke Annibale

John was the first one to unceremoniously break the silence in a very John-like manner. “What in the hell—?”

“Looking sharp, Mr Marston,” Matthew noted with a smirk. “But don’t let your smart new haircut fool you into believing you can interrupt me again.”

Arthur was reaching his limit with this feller. He had a _lot_ of questions, many of which he wanted to ask while bashing his face in. _That_ he would really enjoy. For the sake of everyone else he held back, standing still with fists clenched, eyes trailing after the now familiar visitor as he casually paced in front of the gathering crowd. 

At that moment, Annabelle exited Dutch’s tent to join him at his side. She stopped dead beside Arthur as Hosea arrived, forming a protective line next to his comrades.

Dutch made is feelings known with an agitated tone. “Ah, hello again. What can we do for you mister…? I’m sorry, I don’t believe we got your full name last time you _visited_.”

Matthew looked him up and down, hands folded behind his back. “And you never will. The question, Mr Van der Linde, is not what you _can_ do for me, but rather what you _will_ do, inevitably.”

“Now listen, Mister—” 

“Matthew.”

“Mister Matthew—”

“Matthew is fine.”

There was an uneasy silence at camp after the exchange. Matthew waited patiently, visibly unfazed as per usual. Arthur felt his shoulders go taut and urge to punch this arrogant Welshman in the mouth increase. He couldn't help but think that he was here purposely to stir the pot and insult them until someone lost it and snapped.

Dutch released a slow exhale, eyes narrowing as he finally spoke. “Now, we did exactly what you asked; we packed up, we left Iowa as per your request, and we have not done _anythin’_ to step on your toes.”

As he spoke, Matthews wandered around nearby, freely inspecting the camp and examining objects and possessions that didn’t belong to him. “_Yet._ But you will. With your track record you lot are bound to bugger this all up sooner or later. Planning has never really been your strong suit, has it?”

Before Dutch could get a word in, Pádraig awkwardly stumbled out of his tent. As his eyes landed on his familiar face, his mouth fell open in shock. As quickly as he could in his injured state, he grabbed a nearby gun and took aim at Matthew.

Arthur instinctively wrapped his fingers around the grip of his holstered gun while the intruder appeared exceptionally unconcerned.

“You fuckin’ prick!” Pádraig spat. “You shot me!”

Before anyone could even attempt to simmer the flames, Matthew, amazingly, pulled his own gun from his belt and fired a bullet into the wounded man’s leg.

Pádraig fell to the ground with a howl, clutching at the limb and screaming bloody murder. The gun smoke had not yet cleared the air before every member of the gang who had a weapon on them was aiming it at Matthew. Arthur hated to admit it, but the swiftness of the attack left him startled, eyes widening in shock as he pulled his revolver from its holster. He held his arm steady even as Davey and Mac brandished Matthew as a crazy bastard, while Dutch and Hosea were stunned into silence, and even as Karen muttered expletives under her breath. He stared at the attacker down the iron sight, his eyes unmoving lest the weapon was turned on anyone else.

Matthew tutted loudly, and replied in turn to Pádraig’s earlier statement. “And I will continue to do so until you stop running your mouth!” He straightened up, turned to Dutch, and pointed to the screaming Irishman. “So, Mr Van der Linde, I see you decided to spare my dog! You’re a far kinder man than I. I hope he hasn’t been as much of a burden on you as he has been on me.”

Dutch was damn shocked, staring open mouthed as the violence unfolded before him. He held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, struggling to begin a coherent sentence.

Matthew, disappointed by the lack of response, shrugged and then turned to look at the other gang members instead. He met Arthur’s eyes, smirked, then moved on until he noted John again. “Nothing to say, Mr Marston? Pity; I feel like I had at least one more decent shot left in me.”

Arthur was just about ready to hold his younger brother back when Dutch finally found his voice. “Put your guns away! Nobody else needs to get shot today.”

Matthew pouted then lowered the pistol. “I disagree, but I’ll allow it.”

The gang followed the orders hesitantly, but obliged none the less and lowered their guns as the tension settled ever so slightly.

“Your boy Pádraig here already told us everythin’. We _know_.” Dutch drawled as he spoke, putting emphasis on how up to date they were with Matthew’s ties. He approached him slowly and continued on speaking. “We know your ‘employer’ is Colm O’Driscoll. We know all ’bout him, and now? Well, now you got no more stories left to scare us with. Ain’t no more mysterious shadows hangin’ over our heads. You’ve lost your element of surprise, my friend, somethin’ you seem to rely on so heavily. You can’t walk in here and try to scare us with tall tales of what your employer does to his men. Not anymore.”

“Mr Van Der Linde,” Matthew tutted with a sigh. “You disappoint me. Every lawman in the country knows about Mr O’Driscoll. As a matter of fact, he very well may be the most wanted man in America!” He paused, his grin disappearing as it was replaced with feigned surprise. “Oh, was that supposed to be a victory for you? For if that little speech was your smoking gun, then I fear somebody blew on the barrel long ago.”

While Arthur managed to keep his frustrations bottled up, Maebh ran out of patience far quicker. “Here, what the fuck do you actually want?”

William tried to quell her anger, placing a hand across her body with a look that insisted she keep her mouth shut lest she get a bullet like Pádraig, whose yelling had lessened to a pitiful whimpering.

Matthew only laughed at the display. “Oh good _heavens_, Miss Hennigan, there certainly is a _fire_ within you, isn’t there? I wonder whether those agents ever saw it coming?”

Arthur expected a retort — it would be unlike her not to get into a verbal exchange of some sort — but the silence form her was far more surprising than any insult she could have uttered. He let his gaze settle on her, the shocked expression on her face rousing his curiosity. William had visibly tensed, eyes conveying every ounce of rage he felt. Arthur had seen the kid angry before, but he was convinced that if given the chance, William would strangle the life out of this feller with his bare hands. What he couldn’t understand was what about _that_ comment had them so agitated?

Matthew, delighting in the chaos he was creating, cocked his gun and aimed at Pádraig again. “Any more interruptions and poor Pádraig gets more lead in his belly.” Silence came in response and he sighed before lowering the weapon. “Oh, you lot are no fun.”

“I have to ask again,” Dutch began, tone even. “What do you want from us?

A beat of a silence in which everyone waited to bated breath for the answer. 

Matthew shrugged, then holstered his pistol and said. “Honestly? Just popped in to say hello!” He let out a small chuckle and tipped the brim of his hat. “And with that I shall take my leave. I’ll be watching, friends. Very closely.” As he was departing, he walked past Dutch and Annabelle. Clocking her presence, he stopped and turned to her. “It was lovely meeting you, Miss Annabelle. I’m sure we’ll meet again very soon.”

Without further delay, Matthew strolled out of camp, paying no attention to Bill, Mac, and Davey who followed after to make sure he was gone for good. He whistled as he went, carefree and casual as if he had not just shot a man _again_.

Once he was out of sight, Dutch growled out. “Arthur…”

“I got him,” he replied in frustration, already walking over to Pádraig and tossing him over his shoulder with a huff. As he lowered him back on to his bedroll, he added. “Let’s see if your luck holds up a second time, O’Driscoll.”

Dutch was pissed, that much was evident to Arthur as he rejoined his friends. The former was already ordering Miss Grimshaw and Swanson to attend to Pádraig’s latest injury, his temper flaring to a severity Arthur rarely saw. He dismissed Annabelle with a little more patience, insisting he would explain who the hell that was later on.

“What the hell is his problem?” John ranted. “We did what he asked and moved. Ain’t seen no O’Driscolls ’round here neither!”

“I know, John,” Dutch replied. “I know. I wanna know _how_ he found us again too. He’s just tryin’ to mess with us. Get a rise to see if we do somethin’ stupid.”

“Do we think _he_ had somethin’ to do with it?” Arthur asked, throwing a nod Pádraig’s way. “I mean… he did shoot the poor bastard.”

“Pádraig has basically been bedridden since we left Iowa. I haven’t seen him movin’ ’round much. If he was sneakin’ about, one of us would notice.”

John shook his head. “Either that or he’s a damn good actor.”

“Either way, that Matthew feller is insane. Lord knows he has no problem usin’ that gun.”

“Then what do we do?” Arthur asked.

Dutch’s reply was firm. “We stand our ground and do nothin’. Next time he shows up — which he definitely will — we ain’t gonna let him mess with us again. For now, let’s put it behind us and focus on the jobs ahead. We can’t play into his mind games.”

There wasn’t much more discussion as the group began to disperse, settling back into different spots around camp. Few of them talked about the encounter while the rest sat in silence or busied themselves with chores and tasks. Arthur decided to retire to his tent, letting his thoughts of what had just happened flow freely through his head. He played it back multiple times, picking apart Matthew’s words but finding no solace in them. 

No matter what he did, one part grabbed his attention more than anything else — the words he directed at Maebh and the uncharacteristic silence and rage they had induced on the Hennigans.

* * *

** _24th December, 1893, outside Fulton, South Dakota_ **

_Things have been quiet at camp considering Christmas is now so close. After we hit those stage coaches two weeks ago, Dutch insisted that we had enough funds to last us for the festive season and that we also deserved some time off. No one is complaining. The atmosphere in camp always improves at this time of year. Most of us would rather be spending time by the campfire than out doing jobs. Sitting huddled around the fire for warmth with a whisky in hand while Hosea and Dutch tell stories of the gang’s early years is a nightly routine at this point. The newer members — like Bill and Swanson — tell tales of their past lives that include details we may have not heard before. It’s surprisingly pleasant. _

_There’s regular snowfall around these parts, so wrapping up warm and staying in camp is obviously the preferred task for the day. Sometimes trips into Mitchell or Fulton are necessary for supplies, but that’s just the way it is this time of year. The Hennigans still attend to hunting duties despite the snow, and regularly come back from trips with rabbits and deer to keep us stocked. They seem enamoured by the snow, having expressed before that they never had weather like this back in Ireland._

_On the subject of the siblings, I’d be lying if I said something wasn’t bothering me. I’ve noticed that Maebh hasn’t really been the same since Matthew’s surprising arrival back in October. William seems perturbed too, but his sister even more so. Usually his company was the thing to pull her from bouts of sadness or worry, but now even her smile doesn’t seem genuine when they’re together. He seems to have noticed this too, as I see them spending more and more time together and away from others. Perhaps they miss their parents, which would be understandable at this time of year? I’m not entirely sure, but if I can offer a listening ear when the occasion arises, I’ll do my best to help her smile again._

* * *

Arthur shut his journal and tossed it on to his pillow before going to join his fellow gang members around the campfire. Considering it was Christmas Eve, everyone was gathered around next to their tents, singing whatever songs they knew or whatever tunes Uncle could play on his banjo. They were all a few drinks in before Arthur joined. As he took a seat next to Mac and Davey, he scanned the group to see who was in attendance. Dutch, Pearson, Karen, and Susan had commandeered the nearby poker table, while everyone else was huddled around the fire for the music. Even Bessie was sat comfortably on a bedroll with Hosea safely by her side. The only thing that he noticed right off was Maebh’s absence. Taking a haphazard guess, he turned to look at the other smaller campfire that resided beside where the horses grazed and slept. Sure enough, there she sat with her back to the group.

“You’ve gotta catch up, Arthur,” Mac said, pulling him from his thoughts and passing him a bottle of beer. “We’re a few ahead of ya.”

Arthur thanked him before glancing Maebh’s way again. Perhaps it was not his place to say anything — if she wanted company, she would come to them. Maybe she was tired from the long day?

One song finished to rumbling applause and Dutch requested a number as he dealt out the playing cards. Taking his first sip from the bottle, the familiar melody of _Silent Night _began to fill the camp. People sang along despite the light snow overhead; if anything, it added to the festive atmosphere. A few songs later and one beer down, Arthur got up from his seat to grab another bottle from a nearby crate. From behind, he heard his name being called, and he turned to see William hurrying after him.

“You got a minute?” the younger man asked, cheeks flushed despite being wrapped up in a thick coat.

Arthur nodded, reaching into the crate and passing him a bottle. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“I was wonderin’ if you’d mind checkin’ on Maebh for me? I’ve already eaten the ear off her askin’ if she’s alright and I think if I ask again she might be inclined to give me a good wallop…”

Arthur frowned, looking over at her as she sat alone. “Is she alright? I figured she just wanted time to herself.”

“I’m not sure what’s really at her, but I know she tends to miss our ma and da a lot at this time of year. You’s just… get on, so I think she’d be a lot less likely to tell _you_ off rather than if I sent Davey over. She thinks highly of you, so I know she’d rather see you then any of them.” He paused and pulled his flat cap further down his brow. “I feel bad askin’ and takin’ you away from all the festivities, but if you could just check in with her for a little bit, I’d really appreciate that.”

Arthur waved him off with a gloved had. “Awh, you ain’t botherin’ me none. It’s Christmas so I can hardly say no.”

William’s expression brightened at that. “You sure?”

“O’course, kid. Just have another bottle ready for me when I come back… And a sing-song too.”

His friend agreed with an appreciative smile as Arthur grabbed two beer bottles and approached the other deserted campfire. The crunching snow beneath his footfalls announced his arrival and Maebh suddenly turned to see who approached when he was only a few feet away. She said his name in an almost surprised tone, but he merely held out one of the bottles to her. 

“Evenin’, Miss Hennigan,” he greeted her as she hesitantly took the bottle. “Mind if I join ya? Or is this more of a solo celebration?”

“You can sit if you want,” she answered with a sniffle. “I don’t mind either way.”

He let out a little huff and took a seat on a box next to her. “Well, don’t feign excitement on my account.”

His sarcasm did manage to stir a little laughter from her, but now that he was sitting and able to relax, he took the opportunity to get a good look at her. She was sitting wrapped up in a thick irwin coat, a knitted scarf around her neck, and a dark stalker hat pulled low over her eyes. She had been methodically cleaning some of her guns while they were sitting away from her and celebrating with drinking and singing. Much like her brother, her cheeks were tinted pink with the cold, but the distinct shimmer of tears on her face drew his attention as he was in the middle of taking a swig from his drink.

He furrowed his brow as she ran the back of her hand over her eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, eyes focused on the revolver in her hand. “Don’t mind me.”

A tightening in his chest became noticeable at her dismissal. He looked at the rest of the gang cautiously, then focused on her again with a frown. “You don’t seem fine. Somethin’ the matter?”

He watched as her hand stilled its movement. She bit her lip, very much struggling to hold herself together in his presence. “Look, Arthur, I really don’t want to burden you with my problems on Christmas Eve. I’ve caused _enough_ problems as it is.”

“You haven’t caused any problems,” he said without any forethought. “And talkin’ to me ’bout what has you upset won’t cause me any either.” He paused, awaiting a response, but she simply sat there, sniffling as more tears spilled from her red-rimmed eyes. “Look, I ain’t the best person to give advice in camp, but I’ve been told I’m a good enough listener, if you wanna talk to me ’bout what’s eatin’ ya. Hosea once told me holdin’ those feelings in won’t do you any good.”

He was met with more silence before Maebh finally looked at him. She was visibly upset, a state he had honestly never seen her in before, and he couldn’t help the protective streak that ran through him.

He sat up straight in his seat and began to talk again. “Do you remember when we were in the saloon back in De Soto? And you asked if we could talk again over another round of drinks?” She nodded and he then gestured to the bottle of beer on the ground next to her. “In all honesty, it doesn’t feel right for me to leave you here alone and upset. The way I see it, this is our next round. It’s just you and me here, so there’s nothin’ to be afraid of. Whatever we talk about stays between you and me. How ’bout it?”

She offered him a sad — but hopefully genuine — smile for his efforts and reached down to pick up the bottle of beer he brought her. As quickly as her smile appeared it was gone again, and she was sipping from the bottle with shaking hands. When she spoke up, her voice was thick. “I dunno, Arthur. I’m startin’ to realise that I’ve made a serious mess of things.”

“A mess of what exactly?”

She gestured a hand aimlessly around the camp. “_This_. Our situation.”

Arthur ran a finger around the rim of the beer bottle in his hand. “Why do I get the feelin’ this has somethin’ to do with what that Matthew feller said last month?”

She paused for a beat. “He knows an awful lot ’bout us. Way more than I had hoped.” Another paused accompanied by a sigh. “There are Pinkertons who want us dead, Arthur, — William and I — after shit we pulled in Wisconsin years ago. We kept it to ourselves. Well, _I_ insisted that we say nothin’ about it. It was only recently that we told Bessie and Hosea ’cause it was eatin’ at us. But it’s ’cause of me.”

The sympathy he felt for her was genuine. Though he didn’t know what she had done, he still hated to see her worries eating away at her. She was still young and this life could be tough. He knew everyone else had had occasions of deep contemplation over life choices. God knew he had too. He chose to stay quiet and allow her to talk to whatever extent she wanted. That seemed like the way to go.

“The reason William and I are in this situation is ’cause of me. I dragged him into this mess and into this life and now there’s people who want us dead. It eats away at me, y’know? I want what’s best for him — I _do_ — but I think I’ve ruined any chance of him ever reachin’ that.”

“We all got dreams,” Arthur agreed. “But what’s to stop William achievin’ his?”

She let out a bitter laugh. “It’s kinda hard to do that when we’re wanted back in Wisconsin.”

“I mean, Dutch and Hosea are wanted in a few states and they still manage to live a free life.”

“True, but I don’t think William really wanted this for us. And now we’re here ’cause of me.”

He watched her intently, pulling his fluffy collar up higher around his neck as the snow continued to fall. The gang’s Christmas songs filled the air as the silence between the two of them grew. The fire crackled and popped. Chancing his arm, he decided that he would be the one to break it. “What happened back in Wisconsin?”

“I’m goin’ t’be honest, Arthur…” She wiped her eyes and looked at him anxiously. “I’m afraid that if I tell you, you won’t look at me the same way ever again.”

He considered his answer before replying, holding her gaze to the best of his abilities. “Y’know, we’ve all made our fair share of questionable choices before Dutch steered us on the right and narrow. I don’t know what you’ve done, but if Hosea and Bessie still see you as Maebh Hennigan, trusted friend and hard-workin’ member of the Van der Linde Gang after what you admitted to, then nothin’ you say is gonna change that for me.”

Much like he had thought over his response with thorough care, she chose to let his words hang in the air. At least it wasn’t an outright ‘no’. He was relieved she had yet to tell him to go back to the others and leave her be. If that was what she wanted, he would have done it in a heartbeat, but the thought of leaving her alone to her guilt-ridden thoughts would still hurt him nonetheless.

He was just about ready to leave her be when she took a swig of her drink and spoke in a low voice. Her admittance was hushed but still firm. “I’ve lied ’bout things. ’Bout what happened to my ma, ’bout why we left Ireland.” 

“You told me that she had died _after_ comin’ here,” he recalled. “But I kinda noticed when you changed that detail later on.”

“I know I told you that she died before we came to America, but she’s entirely the reason _why_ we came here. She was murdered by the British for her Fenian connections and partakin’ in attacks and illegal meetin’s. They were comin’ for my da next, so we left for a new life far away and changed our last name from Ó h-Éanacháin to Hennigan. We hoped that the Anglicisation of them might draw less attention. It was to keep me and William safe really, and it did that, for a while.

“It happened ’bout four years ago, back on our farm in Wisconsin…”

* * *

** _August, 1889, the Hennigan Farm, Wisconsin_ **

_Things had been quiet at the Hennigan home, much to the relief of the three family members. They had moved to America at the start of the year, suffering through twelve weeks at sea to arrive at Ellis Island. The wheat farm they ran kept them alive and gave them a decent wage. Maebh enjoyed helping out with whatever chores she could to keep her mind off thoughts of home back in Ireland. Their father, Séamus, did his best to keep the farm running as a single parent. They kept mostly to themselves, bar the other Irish nationalists they had met on the boat over. She could see the toll their situation took on him, but they also seemed to have finally settled into their new lives away from all the British conflict in Ireland — the very conflict that had taken their mother’s life, something that still came to mind whenever she wasn’t distracted by chores. Her thoughts rarely strayed far from her mother, if she was honest. _

_It was a hot day in August when the Pinkertons arrived on the farm._

_Maebh and William had been on one of the hills overlooking their farm with their father. Hidden among trees, they were going over target practice with bows and arrows, each of the children taking turns to fire at a makeshift target Séamus constructed to hang from an overhead branch._

_“Who’re they, da?” William asked, breaking the silence as Maebh had been lining up a shot._

_She set down her nocked arrow and bow to see what the fuss was about. William stood on the edge of the tree line, pointing to a group of men in uniforms riding up the long dirt road to their house. From her spot, she could make out their grey and red uniforms as well as the guns they were carrying over their shoulders. There must have been at least twelve of them._

_“Get down,” her father urged them in a hushed tone. “Keep yourselves hidden.”_

_The three of them huddled in the brush, Maebh’s heart beating loudly in her chest. Her hand went instinctively to her mother’s revolver kept holstered at her side as she studied the group. A hand on hers gently pushed it away._

_She looked up to see her father watching her. “There’ll be no time for that now, chicken. You keep that gun away.”_

_William was restless, repeating his question again. “Da, who are they?”_

_“Men from the Pinkerton Detective Agency,” he explained, watching them carefully. “By the looks of their uniforms.”_

_“Detectives?” William repeated in wonderment. “Are they Brits?”_

_Séamus shook his head. “No.”_

_Maebh spoke up. “Then why are they here?”_

_Just as she asked her father for an explanation, one of the apparent Pinkertons knocked on the front door of their humble home and announced their arrival. “Séamus Hennigan! This is AgentWright with the Pinkerton Detective Agency! On behalf of the United States Government and the British Empire, we are here to arrest you for war crimes committed against Her Majesty’s men and acts of terrorism on the people of Britain! Come out with your hands up!”_

_“Da,” William began as the agents armed themselves with guns at the ready. “What do we do?”_

_Séamus stared at the men in silence for a long moment. Agent Wright continued to pound on the door, shouting various threats of violence if he didn’t show himself, saying that they didn’t allow criminals in their country. He took a deep breath, sweat trickling down his brow. He threw a glance over his shoulder at their work horse, Danu, hitched on a nearby tree._

_“You’ll do as I say,” he replied in a whisper. “That’s what you’ll do.”_

_There was a certain edge to his words, one that was not entirely lost on Maebh. She stared at him curiously as William looked to his parent, trying to understand what exactly was going on. “Are they the same men who came for ma?”_

_“No, but they’re here for the same purpose.”_

_“Da?” Maebh asked hesitantly as he reached into his holster and checked that his gun was loaded._

_“You two will do as I say, alright?” he said, ignoring her pleas and placing his hands on their shoulders. “You need to listen very carefully and promise you’ll do exactly what I ask, am I clear?”_

_The children shared a look before nodding._

_Séamus took a deep breath. “Stay out of sight in these bushes and keep her heads down. No matter what you hear, don’t leave these bushes until they’re out of sight, alright? You wait until their horses disappear down the end of the road. Do you remember where I hid the lockbox behind the silo? Once the agents are gone, I need you to take whatever money I’ve kept in that box. Then ride Danu up to Mr Ó Murchú’s farm. Him and his wife will take you in no bother.”_

_“What about you?”_

_“You don’t be worryin’ about me,” he replied, smiling fondly at them both. “I’ll catch up with you’s later. I’m more worried ’bout makin’ sure you’s are alright first. Keep each other safe, ye hear me? And don’t stop for nothin’ until you reach Mr Ó Murchú’s farm. I love you and I’m so proud of you both.” He took a breath before adding. “Remember what I said. Keep your heads down and look after each other.”_

_The children mirrored his words, expressing their own ‘I love you’s’ and agreeing to their father’s orders. He kissed their foreheads, taking one last look at his children, then began to sneak off through the brush to loop back around the house. Maebh obeyed his wishes, even when William began to grow fearful for their father. They stayed amongst the bushes, laying on their fronts and well out of sight. Through partings in the leaves, Maebh could just about make out the front of their farm house where the agents were gathered, still shouting for her father to make himself known. Beside her, William also watched what was going on. Her beating heart continued to thrum erratically, her gut twisting with uncontrollable anxiety. She spotted her father, creeping around the side of the house, out of view of the detectives. Agent Wright gave up banging on the door and shouted to his men to search the area for their fugitive. At that, Séamus made himself know._

_Their father announced himself with a shout, the agents suddenly moving on their feet and aiming their guns at him as he stood next to their family wagon. From her hiding spot, all Maebh could see were his feet under the wagon’s belly as he stood on the opposite side._

_“What’s he doin’?” William whispered, voice shaking with fear. “They’ll arrest him!”_

_She was quick to hush him. “Don’t look!”_

_Her brother looked to her for an explanation. An answer? A plan? She had none. She was only now realising what exactly her father’s plan entailed. “What?”_

_“Do what da said,” she insisted urgently and grabbed hold of his hand. “Keep you head down and _don’t look!_”_

_Despite his rising anxiety, her brother dutifully listened, pressing his face down into the earth below and clutching at her comforting hand. Maebh stared at what she could see of the confrontation. They surrounded him slowly, twelve against one. Words she couldn’t hear were exchanged, Agent Wright aimed his weapon, and suddenly the quiet evening was shattered with gunfire. _

_Her frightened sibling let out a yelp. Three agents fell to the dirt. Gun smoke rose languidly into the sky above. Her father stumbled then crumpled to the ground, linen shirt stained red._

_She stared at his lifeless form, the sounds of the surrounding woods and fields dimming into a slowly growing stillness. All she could hear was her own breathing in her ears, inhales coming harshly until her eyes watered. William’s fingers squeezed hers until his knuckles whitened. As his body shook, she assumed he was crying. Agent Wright looked between the Irishman and his killed comrades with an air of disappointment. The agents gathered their bodies at his orders while three others set the house alight. As her father lay dead and her life fell apart, the world continued on around them as if nothing had changed. Windows smashed and slowly the flames grew. The fallen Pinkertons were hoisted on to the backs of their mounts before the survivors of the company rode away from the house. _

_Maebh watched them leave, angry tears blurring her vision. Her eyes darted between the one body that remained and the departing agents, counting down the agonisingly slow seconds until they eventually disappeared. Once they were out of sight, she tugged William to his feet and fetched the horse. She lead them both down the hill to the house before she ordered William to remain at a safe distance while she ran to the silo. By now, thick, black smoke plumed from their home. Hidden beneath a worktable next to the silo was the lockbox. With shaking hands she opened it, grabbing its contents without counting the money. She could taste salt on her lips as her eyes drifted over a number of clear glass bottles stowed in the box alongside the cash. Some contained what looked like moonshine. Next to them lay a pile of cloth pieces and a box of matches. She threw a glance over her shoulder at her crying brother once more, then grabbed as many bottles as she could carry. They were stuffed into the saddle bag before she approached the blood-stained ground where her father had disposed of Agent Wright’s men. The three abandoned carbine repeaters were collected and thrown over her shoulder before hesitantly approaching where her da lay. With as much care as she could muster, she eased his revolver from his grasp. He was not yet cold, but her vision blurred at the unnatural stillness before her. Hurrying back to her sibling, she slotted the weapon into his empty holster and then handed him one of the repeaters. He still cried, sniffling and blubbering as his eyes looked at their crumbling home. She gently wiped his tears until they ceased falling._

_When he had calmed, she hoisted herself on to Danu and offered him her hand. “Let’s go, William.”_

_“What about da?” he replied, accepting her hand nonetheless and sitting in front of her on the appaloosa._

_“We’ll come back for him.”_

_She lead the horse around the thick woodland surrounding the road that lead out of her parent’s property. There was only one route those Pinkertons could take and she knew that trail like the back of her hand. It didn’t seem like they were in any particular rush either. Hitching Danu a safe distance away, she lead William through the trees as quickly as she could. They arrived at a steep hill overlooking the road some ten to fifteen yards away. Rocks, shrubbery, trees, and fallen trunks lined the ridges either side, providing as much cover as they would need. Each of them were armed with a carbine, their bow, a revolver, and a knife. Maebh positioned William behind some rocks on one hill overlooking the path, laying the extra repeater on the ground next to him. As quickly as she could, she readied the molotov cocktails for him and then handed him half the matches from the box. _

_Releasing a shaky breath, she placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “We should be well covered up here. They’ll be comin’ from up that way soon.”_

_William stared at her, eyes still red and swollen from tears previously shed. He said nothing, already knowing what they had to do._

_“I’ll take the first shot,” she explained quickly. “From my spot on the hill over the other side. When I do, I want you to launch a molotov to the front of the group. That should spook the horses. Then throw another to the back and it’s a free for all. Just remember what ma and da taught us. Stay calm and aim steady. Keep your head down and don’t move from this spot. If I get hit, I want you to get out of here as _quickly_ as you can. Take Danu up to Mr Ó Murchú’s farm like da said, okay?”_

_“Okay,” he replied, then with more certainty. “Okay.”_

_He nodded slowly, trying to take deep breaths to steady himself as they waited for the arrival of the convoy. Giving him a sure look, Maebh slid down the hill so that she could cross the road and scale the other side. Hidden behind a fallen tree trunk, she readied her own cocktails for when the time came._

_The forest around them was painfully still. The gentle rustling of the leaves were the only sounds she could hear bar her own laboured breathing. The evening sun’s light coloured the terrain in deep oranges like the flames of a campfire as a lone bird whistled a tune over her head._

_They didn’t have to wait very long._

_The familiar clip-clop of horse hooves slowly rose in the distance. From her spot, Maebh peaked a look and spotted the group slowly coming up the trail. Agent Wright was positioned at the front, looking entirely cool for someone who had just murdered her father. They moved in a slow trot, unaware of the orphans who lay hidden, waiting for the opportunity to exact revenge. As quietly as she could, she nocked an arrow and slowly peered over the tree trunk as they approached. She was distantly aware of William on the other side and heard the telltale noise of him setting the molotov’s cloth alight. Focused on her target — the agent at the rear of the group — she took a breath and released the arrow on the exhale._

_The bow string trembled as the arrow whizzed towards the target. With a thock, it embedded itself into the man’s upper chest, sending him tumbling off his horse. She was barely aware of the agent to his side calling his name as she readied another shot._

_As instructed, William sent a molotov flying to the front of the convey. The breaking glass and roar of flames shattered whatever ease the men felt in their departure. The horses at the front visibly panicked at the fire that blocked the road ahead, whinnying and huffing on their jittering hooves. The riders struggled to gain control and Maebh took the opportunity to fire at her next target. Slicing through air, it hit the man in the neck with a small burst of crimson blood._

_Confusion consumed their targets. Men tried to steady their mounts or were bucked off entirely. Others drew their carbines and desperately searched for their attackers._

_“Up on the ridge!” Agent Wright’s voice called over the commotion. “To the left!”_

_At his command, Maebh was met with some seven guns pointed her way. She ducked her head down, swapping bow for repeating rifle._

_Right on queue, she watched as another flaming cocktail struck the path behind the horses and set the dry earth beneath it alight. The explosion threw a man from his horse directly into the scorching flames. _

_A volley of bullets wizzed over Maebh’s head. She quickly ducked and crawled to a nearby rock. Hidden again, she took aim and killed another detective. William used his rifle as instructed, smoke pluming from his safe spot behind the rocks with each deafening blast. The gun smoke was unfortunately their most obvious giveaway._

_Multiple men called out as the onslaught continued._

_“On the left!”_

_“On the ridge, to the right!”_

_“How many? How many?”_

_“There! Between the trees!”_

_Maebh moved continuously despite the fear in her gut._

_“_Keep moving,_” her mother always said. “_Never give them a stationary target. Change direction, pace, move from cover to cover between shots; anythin’ to throw them off. Let them think there’s more than just one of you and that there’s no way they’ll ever get a solid mark._”_

_She ducked and weaved to more cover behind a tree to the group’s rear. Bullets cut through the tree’s bark, wood shavings exploding next to her face. She fired again, drawing attention away from her brother as he too downed any men that he could. When he was pinned down, she fired, and vice versa. They worked tactically, in the exact manner they were taught._

_The Pinkertons’ gun barrels tracked her movement before sudden changes in direction sent their shots wide of the mark. Returning to the fallen tree trunk, she lit another prepared molotov and threw it into the now thinning crowd below. Blood-curdling screams of those caught by the fire echoed through the trees._

_The horses, having been frightened to their limit, began to scatter in desperation, abandoning their riders to deal with the ambush alone. The gunfire continued, the siblings safely hidden between points of cover on the high ground. Shots came close, flying by overhead and to each side. Only three men remained standing and they were getting desperate._

_“Take the bastards out!” Agent Wright screamed. “Up behind those rocks! Follow me! You, cover us!”_

_Maebh peaked over the trunk to see Wright and his last two men scrambling up the hillside, straight to where William was still huddled in his spot. The third agent kept them covered, rifle aimed at the trees where she held position. Without much thought for her own safety, she leapt out into the open, unloading four bullets in their direction, striking the last agent in the line right in the gut. _

_Atop the ridge, a scuffle broke out. As Agent Wright descended upon William’s hiding spot, the youngest Hennigan sprung up to meet him. Wright’s revolver was kicked from his hand as they began to grapple. The second agent focused on Maebh, taking aim and narrowly missing. She shrugged off the empty repeater for her mother’s fully loaded revolver. A bullet skimmed her arm as she fired her own, hissing in pain despite killing her attacker._

_William and Wright continued to wrestle, the younger boy being quickly overpowered. The snarling agent managed to reef the hunting knife from William’s grip, swinging wildly as the childdesperately scrambled away. Maebh hurriedly took aim again, her arm flaring in pain and unsteady with her injury. She witnessed the blade nick her brother on the face before seeing red. As he cried out, she steadied her hand and fired._

_The bullet clipped Agent Wright in the shoulder, off the mark for which she was aiming, but still striking him. He stumbled, knife slipping from his grasp._

_William saw his chance. He grabbed Wright’s forgotten pistol from the leafy ground and fired._

_The bullet struck the man’s head. The crack from the gun echoed through the woods as silenceonce more descended upon them. Agent Wright fell to the ground, dead._

_The breath Maebh had been holding released, her shoulders relaxed, and she heaved out a heavy sigh._

_William called her name shakily. “Are you okay?”_

_At the sound of her little brother’s voice, she scurried up the hill and didn’t stop until she was sat next to him on the ground. She immediately checked him over, noting the gnarly cut the knife left down his brow and cheek, but relaxed seeing that it hadn’t caught his eye. Unable to help the urge, she pulled him into a tight embrace. Whether it was to comfort him or herself, she didn’t know._

_“We’re okay,” she said, then repeated it over and over. “I’ve got you. We’re okay.”_

_As the weight of the evening’s events crashed down on them in full force, each of them shed tears that couldn’t be avoided. They were only kids but now they were well and truly on their own._

* * *

Arthur stared at Maebh, transfixed with the retelling of what occurred in Wisconsin. He searched for words, and, honest to God, struggled to find the right ones.

“After that,” Maebh continued, voice timid. “We went back to the farm and buried our da. We’d been on the run ever since, right up until we found you’s. We even had to sell poor Danu to get money for food.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” he said gently, setting his empty bottle down on the ground. “No child should have to see that kinda violence on a parent. You shouldn’t have to go through any of that.”

Maebh scoffed. “Yeah, life’s a load of bollocks, isn’t it?”

“Certainly can be,” he agreed. “But _that?_ That’s too much for anyone’s lifetime.”

“I still murdered those men.” She locked eyes with him. “I murdered them for what they did to our da, and I _liked_ it. What kind person enjoys that?” 

“I can think of a few.”

She shook her head, ignoring the comfort he offered. “It’s not even the killin’ itself — it’s the fact it was so senseless and reckless. I put William in danger for the sake of revenge. I nearly got him killed. I might as well have made and hung up those wanted posters myself.”

Arthur glanced over to where William sat, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Y’know, I always try to remind myself that revenge is a fool’s game. It doesn’t do much good in the end. It probably causes more problems than it fixes. Sure, you felt better after killin’ those Pinkertons, for a time. Then it just became a crushin’ weight that made it harder to breathe.” He paused, trying to choose his words carefully. “We’ve all been there, especially in this life. You think we all got squeaky-clean pasts? But sometimes vengeance just ain’t worth it. Now, had you done that last week as opposed to four years ago, yeah, I’d be mad at you. But you were just a kid, Maebh. You did a stupid thing; somethin’ that could’a backfired and you’re lucky it didn’t.” He leaned over a placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You were just a kid.You have to live with that choice and that’s the way it is. But now, you gotta do right by that brother o’yours. You’ve been protectin’ him ever since, and you won’t be stoppin’ anytime soon. What you do _now_ is what matters. Keep him safe and, I promise you, we’re gonna keep you both safe too. I ain’t gonna let any of those Pinkertons get a hand on you, you hear me? And I ain’t gonna let you make a choice like that again. We’re family, we look out for each other and your past choices won’t change that. You’re a good woman, Maebh, and I think it’s ’bout time you realised that.”

He frowned as her lower lip began to quiver, fresh tears spilling from her eyes as sobs heaved through her shaking body. “I just… I’m so sorry I dragged him into this mess. It’s my fault and I hate myself for it. They told me to look after them and I didn’t. Had anythin’ happened to him that day, I would never forgive myself. If I lose him, I don’t know what I would do…”

That thought alone was too much for Maebh. Arthur could only watch helplessly as she began to weep. A sight he had never witnessed before, he hated it. Not only did he hate that she was hurting, he hated that he couldn’t banish those thoughts altogether. All he could offer was a shoulder to cry on. Not only that, but he genuinely thought he was awful when it came to comforting people while they cried. Going with his gut instinct, he moved to take a seat beside her and pulled her into a firm hug. He was relieved when she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight.

“You’re alright,” he murmured, patting her back. “I’ve got you, you’re alright. If you gotta cry, you cry as long as you need.”

He hadn’t predicted that this was how it would play out when William asked him to speak with his sister. It wasn’t really how he planned for his Christmas Eve to go _at all_. But now it didn’t exactly matter much — he was happy to sit with her as long as she needed, offering reassuring words, honest truths, and listening intently as she unloaded her deepest secrets with a vulnerability he had never seen. 

So there he sat, staying with her until she had calmed enough and agreed to join the rest of the gang around the fire. They were greeted with a number of smiles and festive wishes as the sing-song continued, happy music filling the little plot of land they called home. William was, of course, the happiest of them all. He handed Arthur a beer wordlessly and returned to joining the song. The look of happiness on his face was thanks enough. As Uncle lead the next number, Arthur felt a gloved hand clasp his. He looked down and then up to see Maebh smiling kindly at him. She gave his hand a squeeze, a silent thank you in the company of their friends. He was simply relieved that he could pass off his blushing as a reaction to the cold night air.

With a gentle inclination of the head and a squeeze of the hand in return, he said. “Merry Christmas, Maebh.”

Though her eyes were still red rimmed, her smile was the most genuine one he had seen in weeks. “Merry Christmas, Arthur.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far, thank you, because that was a lot. Go have a cup of tea after all that angst. Or a whiskey, whichever...


	14. Tír Gan Teanga, Tír Gan Anam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The camp gains a new addition before losing one of its dearest members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy fellers. I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe wherever you's are. Times are very unusual at the moment, but hopefully I can provide you with some entertainment at the very least. I've had a lot more free time to write of late, so enjoy another long boah.  
Thank you for 1,000 hits! I can't believe we've reached that number. I'm still shocked we got more than 10 HA Thank you as well for the new subscribers, commenters, and readers that have joined the trash heap. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Maebh wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. She had no clue why she was watching Arthur chop firewood when she should have been brushing down Dullahan. It had been a few weeks since their conversation on Christmas Eve and they were already witnessing the spring of 1894 roll around. He had been immensely supportive in his own way, encouraging her to get back to work and spend time with William. He often asked for both of their company — be it separately or together — for jobs he thought could use their expertise. Although worried that he might have reported his findings back to Dutch, the latter had not changed in how he treated her. He remained a sort of parental guidance figure, praising them on a job well done here and there, and asking for her or William to accompany him and Annabelle for a ride around the county. She almost felt guilty for thinking Arthur might spill the beans. She appreciated his gentle reminders that nothing had changed between them… at least on _his_ end. She wasn’t sure why, but she found her eyes subconsciously trailing after him as he worked around camp, and even when they were robbing stages and tracking leads around the state. She’d had Miss Grimshaw scolding her with some harsh words when she let it affect her duties at camp.

“Cut that day dreamin’ out and get back to work, girl!”

No one liked to be rebuked by Grimshaw, lest you get a slap across the damn face. So Maebh put her head down and worked even when Arthur drew her attentions elsewhere. She found herself smiling like an idiot when he greeted her in the mornings over their usual cup of coffee, or watching him intently as he sat on his own and sketched out a scene in his journal, or even as he played fetch with Copper. She supposed she could now add wielding an axe to the list. She eyed him chopping firewood in the blistering sun, her gaze wandering over his broad back, muscles flexing beneath his maroon striped shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the prominent veins along his hairy forearms below. Her thoughts grew surprisingly perverse. She blinked in surprise, very nearly shaking her head in astonishment.

_Jesus Christ, Maebh. Get it together! What are you at—_

A distant voice calling her name suddenly came into focus. She blinked again and turned her head to see John Marston standing next to her. “You hear me, Hennigan?”

She cleared her throat, brushing her horse’s coat more attentively this time. “Sorry, I’m miles away.”

“Yeah,” he replied, smirking slightly. “I can tell. I asked if you was headin’ out somewhere?”

As a matter of fact, she was. Along with Karen and Uncle, she was going into Mitchell to follow up on a lead involving a wealthy land owner that lived not too far away. The women were supposed to charm some information out of him while Uncle kept an eye out.

“You and Karen want company?” John asked.

“We’ve got Uncle comin’ actually. It was his lead in the first place.”

“You sayin’ you’d rather Uncle’s company than mine?”

“C’mon, Marston,” she sighed, taking her eyes off Dullahan to look at her friend. “I’d even rather Copper’s company over _yours_.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“Who said I was jokin’? I love that dog.”

He scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “What, and you don’t love me?”

She let out an exaggerated sigh as she reached into her saddle bag. “I’m not sure. You _are_ very annoyin’.”

He watched in amusement as she gifted her mare with a precious oatcake. He laughed and casually stroked the horse’s dark mane as she gobbled it up. “Yeah, you love me, don’t’cha, darlin’?”

“Debatable.”

“I was talkin’ to Dullahan, actually.”

“Aren’t you _gas_. Now what’re you harrassin’ me and her for?”

“Think you could pick me up somethin’ in town? You kinda owe me one for those biscuits I brought you.”

“Even though you eat half of the box?” She rolled her eyes as he shrugged in response, but smiled regardless. “Sure. What do you need?”

As he spoke, he reached into his pocket and fished out some money. “Some tobacco if that’s alright. I’m all out and Pearson’s supply is gone too. I ain’t bothered waitin’ for the next supply run.”

She waved off the money he offered. “It’s grand, you hang on to that. I owe you one, remember?”

“Awh, I was just kiddin’ ’bout that, but thank you. Now _I_ owe _you_ one.”

“You can buy me a whiskey next time we head into town and make a show of ourselves in the saloon, Mr Marston.”

He grinned at her in that very John Marston way. “Oh, well then you’ve got yourself a deal, Miss Hennigan."

“Step off, Marston,” Karen called as she approached the pair with Uncle by her side. “Some of us have work to do! Why don’t you do somethin’ useful before I get Grimshaw after you for standin’ ’round and flirtin’?”

“Yeah, John,” Uncle agreed. “Some of us are tryin’ to earn our keep, y’know?”

Marston merely rolled his eyes. “You feelin’ jealous, Karen?”

The blonde hoisted herself on to her mount with a laugh. “More like feelin’ sorry for the girl!”

“You best get before her brother sees you,” Uncle added in a teasing tone. “Maybe this time he’ll shave that damn head o’yours!”

“I’m gettin’ outta here while I still have some dignity and hair left,” John huffed with a chuckle, not taking their teasing too seriously. He gave Maebh a little salute as she pulled herself up on to her saddle. “Thanks again, Maebh.”

She waved him off again with a grim and then fell back in line with Karen and Uncle, beginning the ride into town. Due to Uncle’s insistence and their high spirits, she and Karen were happy enough to oblige him with a song — specifically the one about the girl from Berryville that he was so fond of. They arrived at the city in good time and discussed the plan yet again. They were heading into the more high end establishment in the area, so a quick trip to the local tailor was in order. How he managed to make Uncle look presentable was beyond her, but the old man cleaned up well when he wasn’t drunk off his arse and falling asleep all over camp. Both Karen and Maebh made sure to buy blouses with lower necklines, adding a hint of promiscuity that would hopefully assist them in getting vital information from the land owner. They carefully pushed up their breasts too, just the right amount.

“If you got ’em,” Karen began with a grin. “Use ’em.”

Inside the Jackfish Saloon, Uncle took up a spot beside the bar with glee while the two women warned him not to drink more than necessary. Karen and Maebh commandeered one of the tables while eying the game of Poker going on nearby. The saloon was home to the wealthier residents of the city, and known for its seafood meals made from fish caught fresh everyday from Lake Mitchell. It was also known to run Poker and Blackjack tournaments while offering rooms to rent and baths for weary travellers. It was also exceptionally popular for prostitutes.

Maebh and Karen slowly drifted closer to the game where their target, a Mr Crawford, was doing quite well. It was fairly easy to win the man’s attention the more hands he played and the more drinks he consumed. He relished their attention, dubbing them his ‘good luck charms’ as his winnings continued to grow. When he left the game with a serious amount of money, he offered them drinks in return for their company. They drank slowly while he became more and more inebriated, offering up information about his business and even inviting them back to his home, a question to which they tactically never gave a straight answer. Seemingly enjoying their playful attitudes, he proceeded to insist they join him at another Poker tournament he was due to attend in the same saloon in a week’s time. With all the information they needed out of him, they agreed to attend, well aware that they would instead be robbing his home that very evening.

Once he had taken his leave, the women shared a look before rejoining Uncle at the bar. Maebh was surprised to see him in the company of a very pretty brunette, talking to her animatedly as she listened with a raised brow. Her dark hair was tied in a neat bun while her clothes looked a little tattered, littered with numerous patches of repair. She couldn’t have been older than William by the looks of her youthful face.

“He’s not botherin’ you, is he?” Maebh asked the stranger.

Uncle whipped around to greet them. “Ladies! We are discussin’ a business opportunity, actually.”

Karen took one look at him before speaking to his company. “Run while you still can.”

“Y’all ain’t makin’ me look very good right about now!”

“He ain’t botherin’ me,” the woman spoke up. “At least not all _that_ much.”

Uncle gestured to her with a hand as he spoke. “Ladies, I want you to meet Miss Abigail Roberts. Miss Roberts, these are my associates, Miss Maebh Hennigan and Miss Karen Jones.”

They offered each other awkward greetings before Maebh questioned the older man. “What exactly are you up to this time, Uncle?”

“Abigail here is a workin’ woman and we were discussin’ her job. She was explainin’ that it can be tough sometimes to find men willin’ to pay the right amount for what they’re gettin’. Apparently the folks ’round can be real stingy and times are a little tough for her right now. I suggested that she join us, that way we can offer her protection and a roof over her head in return for her donatin’ some of her earnin’s to the gang. Plus, I think some of the fellers in camp are gettin’ quite antsy of late and they’ll be a goldmine for her… Then when she comes into towns for her work, one of them can go with her to make sure it all goes smoothly and she’s alright.”

Maebh blinked at him in surprise as Karen spoke. “That’s actually… not a bad idea.”

“Would you be up for it?” Maebh asked this Abigail girl curiously. “We’re always willin’ to take in people who need to be helped. As long as you can pull your weight.”

“That and we could do with more women around,” Karen added. “To help keep these fools in line.”

“You gotta survive somehow, right?” Miss Roberts replied with a small smile. “I know a good offer when I see one and prostitutin’ can be rough sometimes. I could do with a helpful pair of eyes watchin’ my back every now and then.”

“Then we’re in agreement,” Uncle declared and finished his drink. “I say we all head back to camp and introduce her to Dutch. How ’bout it?”

The three women went along with his suggestion, riding back the way they had came once Abigail had collected her belongings from her room. On the return journey, Maebh also stopped into the general store to pick up John’s tobacco, lest she get an earful later on. A couple of the gang members who were still at camp when they returned seemed curious of the new arrival being brought to Dutch’s tent. Introductions were made and Uncle explained his idea with enthusiasm. It was seemingly well met by Mr Van der Linde, who welcomed Miss Roberts into the fold with a warm handshake. He also offered her his assurance that none of the men in camp would do wrong or mistreat her, but if they did, he would happily reprimand them for it. She simply assured him that she would have no problem defending herself from unruly customers and had plenty of experience in that area. They spoke for a while in his tent, discussing things intently while Maebh and Karen decided to go join Annabelle, who sat sewing at one of the nearby tables. They chatted idly, joining in on the chore so that they could avoid Miss Grimshaw’s wrath. The young Irish woman kept her eye out at camp, mostly looking around to see if she could spot Arthur about. He returned not long after they did, with Bill and the Calendar brothers in tow. She studied them as they hitched their horses and shared a few laughs, recalling how Bill previously said he was planning a stage robbery. The cash they were placing into the metal collection box was confirmation enough. 

Sometime later, Dutch and Miss Roberts emerged from his tent and the former was calling for the gang’s attention. “Everyone! Gather round, my friends! Gather round!” Once an audience had formed, he continued on with his speech. “Now, this here is Miss Abigail Roberts. She had the pleasure of meetin’ Uncle, Miss Hennigan, and Miss Jones in Mitchell while they were on a job, and is a new member of our family as of today. Y’all ain’t to be fooled by her age, she’s well capable of handlin’ herself and earnin’ her share. We’ve done a lot of talkin’ and have come to an agreement. She’s a workin’ girl, has been for a few years and knows the profession well. Basically, we are to give her shelter, a home, and our protection while she does her job in exchange for donations. I also don’t want any’a you expectin’ her services for free just ’cause she’s in the gang, you hear me?”

Dutch continued on with his speech for a short while, taking the opportunity to congratulate Bill’s successful robbery of the stagecoach before sending everyone back to their duties. The ladies were returning to their sewing when Miss Roberts approached. “Mr Van der Linde suggested that I get acquainted with the other women, considerin’ I’ll be helpin’ out with other duties ’round camp.”

“That’s a good idea,” Annabelle agreed. “Have you been given a bed yet?”

“They said I was gonna be given a spot next to Karen.”

“In that case, let’s sit and chat ’round there. It’ll keep us far enough away from the boys while we tell you who to avoid.”

“I’ll be right with you’s,” Maebh reassured them. “I need to go give John his tobacco.”

“We’ll keep the wash basin ready for you!” Karen called after her as the trio left.

She spotted John reading a newspaper while sitting at the shore of the lake. He trailed his fingers along the words as he went, eyes narrowed in concentration. As she approached, she fished the sealed bag of tobacco leaves from her pocket, took aim, and chucked it at the seated figure. The bag landed in his lap, causing him to jump in surprise.

“There’s your tobacco,” she announced casually. “As requested.”

“Thank you,” he offered kindly. “Wanna smoke some with me? Considerin’ you bought it.”

She dismissed his offer with a wave. “I might knick some off you later, if that’s alright. Me and the other girls are goin’ t’go learn a bit more ’bout Miss Roberts.”

“Oh…” His brows piqued at that. “Why is it that Uncle is allowed to bring back prostitutes, but when _I_ do it, I get a hidin’?”

“Oh, go away, Marston! That’s completely different.”

“Sure, Hennigan. Whatever you say. At least she’s real’ pretty.”

She wagged a finger at him and began to leave. “Good God. I’m goin’ t’warn her to stay away from _you_ in particular.”

He laughed with a very proud smirk. “You wanna keep me all to yourself, do ya?”

“Go and shite, greasy.”

Maebh quickly returned to where Karen, Annabelle, and Miss Roberts were sitting at the former’s open air tent next to one of the supply wagons. It wasn’t too far from everyone at camp, but a safe distance that allowed them to gossip without their conversation being overheard. Maebh attended to washing some of the dirty clothes in the basin that Karen so kindly left for her. The others were sewing and hanging clothes for drying, the usual chores of which they weren’t overly fond.

“What I miss?” Maebh asked as she rolled the sleeves of her blouse up her arms and placed her hands in the warm water.

“Miss Roberts was tellin’ us a little bit about herself,” Annabelle explained. “Weren’t you?”

“I ain’t got no problem sharin’,” Miss Roberts replied with a shrug. “There ain’t exactly much to tell. I grew up an orphan and became a prostitute to get by. I’ve been livin’ in different dive bars and brothels across the West to make sure I can feed and house myself. Ain’t much more to me, really, but the idea of a little more stability here would be nice.”

Annabelle hummed. “Then you came to the right place. Dutch treats everyone here equally and we all earn our share to keep the gang alive. He’ll do right by you.”

“He seems like a decent man, and I’ve met my fair share of unpleasant ones. Is he your husband?”

Annabelle let out a small laugh. “No, he ain’t. But I do love him and we’ve been together a couple of months.”

“I could tell,” Miss Roberts said and smiled. “The way you two look at each other makes it obvious. Are there any other husbands or men I should probably avoid ’round camp?”

“Well,” Karen began, letting her eyes trail over the rest of the gang members. “Hosea and Bessie have been married for years. As far as I know, ain’t no other men who got wives or partners in camp.”

“They don’t seem so bad anyway. I can usually spot the ones that would give me trouble — had to learn that the hard way.”

“How long have you been prostitutin’?” Maebh asked curiously.

“Since I was able to really. I ain’t got much else to offer — I can’t read and struggled to get jobs as a cleaner. I tried waitressin’ in this saloon one time but the pay barely kept me afloat. I met a couple’a other women there who helped me to get started. The money was better and it allowed me to actually look after myself, so it wasn’t all _that_ bad. I’ve plenty of good memories with those girls.”

“Sounds like you’ve seen a lot. How old are you, if you don’t mind me askin’?”

“I just turned seventeen.”

“You’re not too far off my brother. He’ll be nineteen in April, so at least there’s a few of us here you have somethin’ in common with.”

“Which one is your brother?”

“The good-lookin’ one with the big ol’ scar on his face,” Karen deadpanned as Maebh turned to point him out by the horses, carrying hay for feeding. “Can’t miss him.”

“_Jaysus_, Karen,” Maebh sighed. “Stop lookin’ at my brother like that.”

“_What?”_ she asked, feigning innocence. “Haven’t I ever told you that Irish men are my weakness?”

“No, and I’d rather _not_ know if it’s _him_.”

“He _is_ cute though,” Miss Roberts noted with a small smile. “She ain’t wrong.”

“Just don’t tell him that — it’s the last thing his ego needs.”

“Well, puttin’ egos aside, tell me about the men ’round here. I should know what I might be dealin’ with.”

Karen took the lead, seemingly enthusiastic about gossiping over the rest of the gang.She started with the two most important men in camp who were talking on the lake’s shore. “Alright, so we know that both Dutch and Hosea are off limits, but they’re kinda like the two leaders of the gang. They look out for us and keep everyone in line. You got any problems at all, you can go to them. Then we got John Marston—” She pointed him out as he smoked his pipe with fresh new tobacco. “—who will most likely be a returnin’ customer. He’s ladies man, kind of a moron, but not all bad. He’s a good guy, but has his moments of bein’ a jerk.”

“He’s quite handsome,” Miss Roberts pondered. “If I’m bein’ honest.”

“He agrees,” Maebh snorted. “At least you weren’t here for when he didn’t wash or cut his hair…”

“Then that’s Bill Williamson,” Karen continued, pointing at the man as sat by the campfire with a beer in hand, petting Copper’s head gently. “Kinda gruff, definitely a drunk, but not all bad I guess. Just don’t let him near ya while he’s drinkin’ — he’s much easier to deal with while sober. Those boys sitting next to him are the Calendar Brothers, Davey and Mac. They’re violent bastards, but only to those who pose a threat to the gang. I doubt they’ll give you any trouble. The guy sleeping in the tent over there is Pádraig. He was in this rival gang but now we’re stuck with him because his old boss ain’t got no problem killin’ him. I can’t tell you much ’bout his character, but he’s real’ timid and sticks to himself or the Hennigans most of the time.”

“That reverend there is Swanson and the cook is Mr Pearson, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen them availin’ of buyin’ time with a woman, so they might not approach you at all. They’re good people, but Swanson’s got… _problems_, so to speak. You already know Uncle, so all that leaves is Arthur Morgan. He’s the one refilling the water buckets over there.”

Maebh’s hands froze in the water and she gulped as the conversation steered towards Arthur. The women eyed him curiously while she felt her heartbeat quicken. She had no idea why, but she hadn’t previously considered that he could make use of Miss Roberts’ profession. For some reason, the thought never crossed her mind, but now, with all of the other ladies watching him closely, it was all she could think about. She had nothing against this girl — she didn’t even know her and she seemed like a nice person — but why did the thought of Arthur sleeping with her send Maebh reeling?

“He’s been in the gang for years,” Karen casually went on. “He’s a good man but can be a mean, grumpy, bastard when it’s needed. That bein’ said, he looks out for everyone else and tries to make sure everyone earns their share.”

“He’s handsome too,” Miss Roberts noted matter-of-factly. “And sounds like a decent feller.”

“Compliment him and he’ll be sure to deny it,” Annabelle added. “He seems to think he’s a right bastard, but he’s one of the best men here from what I’ve heard and seen myself.”

Karen paused, eyes drifting back down to the material in her hands. “I gotta admit though, I’ve not been in the gang long, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a woman, whether she was workin’ or not. He gets offers in the saloons like most men do, but he’s always turned them down. He ain’t like John or Bill. But I think that’s ’cause of a relationship he had with a woman when he was younger.”

“A relationship?” Maebh blurted out before she could stop herself.

Karen nodded. “Dutch told me a little bit about it a while ago. Apparently he wanted to marry this girl when they was kids and her folks didn’t approve. He didn’t say much else, but I’m startin’ to think that one of the photos he keeps in his tent is of her.”

Maebh hummed, pressing her lips together. She had never heard anything of this woman, but then again, Karen was right; she had not in all her years in the gang seen Arthur pursue women or be in a relationship with one. It was kind of odd she supposed, especially when most of the others were more than happy to pay for intimacy or use their charm to get it. Unless of course, that’s what his trips were for… 

“I knew one of the photos was of his ma,” she explained. “But never knew who the other one was.”

“You didn’t know? I figured you’d know more ’bout it than _me_.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Oh c’mon, Maebh,” Karen sniggered. “You two are good friends and you’ve known him longer than I have.”

“Just ’cause we’re mates doesn’t mean we talk ’bout _that_. What he does in his private life isn’t any of my business, and whatever I do in mine isn’t his.”

Karen laughed. “So you ain’t never told him ’bout you and that stable boy?”

“Nope,” Maebh replied, waving off her teasing. “And _we_ aren’t goin’ t’discuss it here now either!”

“Alright, alright. But even if you two don’t talk about men or women, you’re still close. If Marston is Dutch’s favourite, then you and William are definitely Arthur’s.”

Maebh’s fingers clasped around the wet linen in her hands, fidgeting at the thought. “Maybe? I haven’t really thought much about it.”

“Well, I just say it as I see it.”

“I have to agree,” Annabelle added. “I’ve not been here long, but you three seem real close. Dutch mentioned it before too.”

“Has he ever pursued you, Miss Hennigan?” Miss Roberts asked casually.

The young woman’s mind instantly returned to the night they robbed the homestead together and they were forced to hide in very close proximity. She kept her voice measured, despite the fluttering inside her chest. “No, he hasn’t.”

“Maybe you should think about it,” Karen suggested. “You two would probably work well together.”

“I don’t think so. He’s a friend but that’s it, Karen.”

“You sure? I don’t blame ya — any of us would be lucky to end up with Arthur.”

Maebh never thought she’d be happy to hear Miss Grimshaw’s scolding voice interrupt a conversation with her friends, but for once she had done her a favour. They were encouraged, rather harshly, to focus on their work instead of gossiping and for once, she was happy to keep her mouth shut and wash the gang’s dirty clothes. She passed one garment on so it could be hung up to dry, trying to keep her mind from focusing on Arthur as it did most days now. Brushing her wrist over the light perspiration on her forehead, she picked up the next shirt without looking and dunked it into the water. Only when she pulled it back out did she notice the vibrant blue colour that demanded her attention. She smiled softly at the wet shirt in her hands, recognising its slightly frayed collar and the striped pattern, as well as the familiar and comforting scent that consumed the air around her. She hoped the other women didn’t notice her fond expression as she allowed her eyes to trail once more to the owner of the shirt. 

Whatever _these_ thoughts were, she would have to deal with them at another time. For now, she could reward herself with one more stolen glance.

***** * *

** _7th Feb, 1894, outside Fulton, South Dakota_ **

_I think I’m starting to get the hang of this journalling thing? Or at least I _ _hope_ _I am. I’m not sure whether it would even make sense to ask Arthur for any tips. After all, I’m just writing words down on a page to tell a story about my day. I should be well used to this, but somehow it feels a little different from telling a story that is fiction. Maybe I’m just looking for excuses to talk to Arthur._

_Now _ _there’s_ _something I should probably write about…_

_So, it’s been a few days since the arrival of Abigail Roberts and I’ve been doing some thinking over the conversation I had with the other women. If I’m being honest with myself, I think I might _ <strike> _fancy him_ </strike> _ _ <strike> _have a crush on_ </strike> _ like him a bit… more than friends usually should. I suppose on one hand it was inevitable that I might get more attached to him after spilling the beans about Wisconsin. I have to give myself some sort of break. He has been so immeasurably kind to William and I since then, so how else was my heart going to react?_

_Even still, the question is whether this is a little crush or whether I like him… a lot. The other question is whether I actually do something about it, but the thought of that makes me nervous. I highly doubt Arthur likes me more than a friend. If anything, he probably sees me as a little sister in the same way he sees John as a little brother. As far as I know, he hasn’t gone to Miss Roberts yet—_

_Jesus, why are you even thinking about that, Maebh? Knock it off._

_Now, forgetting all of _ _that_ _, there are more important things to discuss._

_Though I’m not an expert, I think that Bessie’s days are numbered. I spoke to Hosea about it and he believes that she’s going to die any day now. Because of this, atmosphere around camp is rather odd and despairing. No one wants to go out on long jobs for fear that something might happen while they’re gone. Miss Grimshaw is far more reserved that she has been before. I can’t imagine how this is for her. While I know it is awful for Hosea to lose his wife, I imagine Susans feels as though she is losing her sister. The world can be awfully cruel, and unfortunately I know that well. I just hope that Bessie knows how much I — how much _ _we all_ _— appreciate her._

_I don’t think this gang will ever be the same without her._

* * *

Maebh sat on the shoreline of Fulton Lake with her brother by her side. They watched in quiet despondency at the sight before them. As the sun set, Bessie and Hosea rode atop Silver Dollar together, the horse moving at a slow walk along the water. They had heard the old couple’s discussion and Bessie’s insistence that she wanted ‘one last journey’ with her horse. Hosea opted to leave his own mount behind in order to ride with his wife instead, just in case she became too weak to handle the gentle trek.

Maebh took a long drag from her cigarette, enjoying the familiar burn in her throat. She said nothing as the pair trotted down a safe distance away before looping back to return to camp. The evening was unusually silent. There was little talk between the gang members, so the familiar sounds of nature around them filled the air. Chirping crickets, birds calling to one another as the orange sky grew dimmer and dimmer.

Once Bessie had been helped down from the saddle, she placed a soft hand on the Turkoman’s cheek. The horse allowed her to press her head against his, eyes smiling with the attention from his owner, a friend he had had since before Maebh even joined the gang.

“You look after him for me, Hosea,” Bessie said, running a weak and gentle hand down the horse’s mane. “He means a lot to me, but I know he’ll be safe in your hands.”

“I will, my dear,” he reassured her, voice surprisingly calm. “I don’t think I’ll ever compare to his best friend though.”

“You’re a good boy,” she said to the horse with a sad smile. “The best I could hope for.”

Together they led Silver Dollar back to the patch of grass where the other horses were resting. The Hennigans sat still on the ground, passing the cigarette between them untilit burned out and Hosea came up to them.

“Bessie wants to see you two,” he stated, nodding to the tent in which she resided. “You alright to come along?”

William answered without missing a beat. “Always.”

Outside the tent, Hosea hesitated. “I’ve to go speak with Dutch. I’ll give you a little time to yourselves.”

The younger outlaws didn’t argue as they were ushered inside to join their older friend. Though Bessie offered them a friendly smile, Maebh couldn’t help but notice how different she looked. Her skin was pale while her eyes were encircled by an uncharacteristic and sunken darkness. It was almost as if she was a different person, one that was borderline unrecognisable had it not been for the familiar glint that still shone in her eyes. Her breathing came out laboured, but she didn’t let that stop her from greeting the two of them with familiar fondness.

“How’re you feelin’?” Maebh asked as she took a seat. She wasn’t sure what else she _could_ ask. While she had seen a lot of death in her short life, all of those occasions had been sudden. Having the opportunity to say goodbye to someone she cared about was a new experience. She wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Like I’m just about done here,” Bessie replied from her cot. “I think I’ve pushed all I can.”

“How do ye know that for sure?” William asked. “You might have more time left.”

“When you know, you know. I don’t think I can explain it any better than that. It’s a feelin’ I have in my heart that my time is up. I just want to use the time I have left as best I can, which is why I wanted to see you two.”

Bessie offered out her hands to them. With a shared look between them, the siblings gently placed a hand each in hers. The coolness of her skin was jarring, but Maebh only held on tighter.

“I’ve spoken to Hosea ’bout this,” Bessie continued on despite the amount of effort it took to speak. “Many times in the past and many times in recent months. But I wanted to talk to you both together as well. It’s important that you know what will happen.

“When Hosea and I left this gang, I told him that times would change. The life of an outlaw is freein’ for some and a notorious life for others, but it isn’t forever. When I told Hosea that he would be best leavin’, it was ’cause I wanted a more stable life with my husband. I wanted_ more time_. Although I guess that means little now when I got sick. But regardless, it doesn’t matter that he drifted back into this life now. He’s lived his life the best he could. And while I have some time left, I wanna make sure that you two don’t do the same thing.”

“What do you mean?” Maebh asked while William remained silent.

“That this life… it ain’t permanent. How long do you think we can fight back against this ‘_civilisation’,_ as Dutch calls it? He means well, I know that. He’s a good man — a great man — but he can only do so much. He truly does wanna help those who need it. Keepin’ this gang safe and free and livin’ by our own rules is what matters to him. But those Pinkertons, the government, they’re inevitable. Things change, times change, the world moves on. You won’t forget ’bout how things were, but if you wanna survive, you gotta change with them. And you two, well, you’re both young. You’re just kids — _you’ve_ got time, while me and Hosea and Dutch… we ain’t got none left. It’s too late for us to change our lives, but you and John, and Karen and that new girl, Abigail, you’ve _all_ got time. It’s not too late to do somethin’ better with your lives. I know you two have dreams and you have skills. You can read and write and farm… You could be bankers, writers, ranchers, entertainers, or lawyers. Hell, get married to someone you love, have kids, whatever you want. You can be _anythin’_, and that’s what I want you two to promise me.”

William cleared the nervous lump in his throat. “Promise you?”

“Yes, William. You both gotta make a dyin’ old woman a promise that you’ll be more than outlaws. More than what we were. Hosea is more positive with his outlook than I am, but I suppose that’s what happens when you’re dyin’. Me right here, I’m probably the happiest endin’ you could hope to get in this life. You either get sick, or you die by the bullet. There’s no agin’ peacefully.”

“But you and the others have lasted all this time. Why can’t we?”

“’Cause this life will catch up with us all eventually. We’ve had good luck so far and we’ve certainly gotten outta our fair share of bad situations, but the luck will surely run out eventually. We can only avoid change for so long.”

“So what do you want us to do?” Maebh asked with trepidation. “We can’t just up and leave them. Things are good right now, even with all those O’Driscoll fellas.”

“Oh, I’m not sayin’ that, Maebh. I don’t mean that at all. What I want you to do is start _thinkin’_. I want you both to think about your lives when things get tough. There’s gonna be a point of no return for everyone and when the time comes for you, you both need’a remember this conversation. Do you understand?”

A silence hung in the air as she awaited a response. Maebh looked to her brother and, though he seemed troubled with the advice, he nodded his head slowly, eyes downcast at the hand in his grasp. She turned from him to look at the older woman. She didn’t want to say it aloud, but Bessie meant a lot to her. She had done so much for them from the day they arrived up until now. It made sense that she would somehow try to look out for them once she had gone too.

“You told me once that there was no gettin’ out,” Maebh began slowly. “Do you still believe that?”

“For some of us I do, but not for the likes’a you two. You’ve come a long way from that farm in Ireland, but what would your parents want for you?”

Letting out a sigh, Maebh ran her free hand over her eyes before nodding. “Alright. I promise.”

Bessie offered her a small but genuine smile. “Good, that’s good. Although I suppose there ain’t no arguin’ with a dyin’ ol’ woman.” They shared a laugh before she went on. “Oh, and do me a favour — if and when the time comes, try to bring that stubborn ox with you.”

Maebh blinked. “_Who?”_

“That Arthur Morgan,” she elaborated with a dry cough. “He thinks he’s the worst of them which is why I say he’s stubborn. But there’s still some hope for him too.”

“I’m not sure if he’d listen to us ’bout somethin’ like that,” she replied, offering Bessie her cup of water as another cough shook her frail body. “I think you’re puttin’ too much faith in us.”

The ill woman drank the water in small sips before she replied. “Oh, my darlin’, he’ll listen to _you_. Don’t you know? I’m convinced that he would do anythin’ you ask of him. The sooner you both realise that, the better.”

Maebh didn’t reply — it wasn’t like she actually _had_ a reply — but instead chose to help Bessie as she sat up in her cot. Her body felt noticeably smaller beneath her clothes.

“But enough of that serious talk,” Bessie huffed and held out her arms to them. “Gimme a hug; I ain’t contagious.”

The siblings hugged her tight, ignoring the stinging tears that threatened to spill from their tired eyes.

“Look after one another, alright?” she urged them. “And stick together. I wish only the best for you both.”

“Thank _you_ for lookin’ out for us,” William murmured as they pulled away. “I’m not good at goodbyes but I really mean that.”

“It’s been my pleasure. You two deserve some happiness in your lives after all that’s happened, but I’m sure you’ll find it.”

The three of them settled into a comfortable but somber silence as Hosea reappeared. He entered with their permission before asking if everyone was alright. Arthur appeared behind them with a deep frown etched into his face.

“These two are goin’ to rejoin the livin’ outside,” Bessie replied jokingly. “They can’t spend all their time in here with me and I can only say so much right now.”

With one final exchange, Maebh and William left the other three in the tent and stepped out into the cool night air. In the time they were gone, the sun had set beyond the horizon. Neither said anything as they slowly walked to the nearby campfire. The gang sat around its warmth, no one saying a word as the Hennigans took a seat on one of the pelt-covered logs. On the outskirts of the group sat Pádraig, who played a slow tune on his harmonica. Miss Roberts was softly singing a tune as everyone occupied themselves with food or whittling or thinking deeply to themselves.

_“Oh Shenandoah,_

_I long to see you,_

_Oh… you rollin’ river._

_Oh Shenandoah’s,_

_A rollin’ river,_

_Oh… I’m bound away_

_O’er the Wild Kamassa.”_

It was as though all of them gathered together in solidarity. A comforting but silent exchange, because none of them could think of words to ease their minds. For once, Dutch was eager to let someone else’s voice fill the void. Maebh let her tears fall, struggling to comprehend not only the promise she had made to Bessie, but how she was to find her footing without her motherly guidance. Right now, she couldn’t really think about anything the future surely held. She let her head rest on William’s shoulder, who instinctively pulled her closer with an arm around her shoulders. The gang would struggle to recover from the loss of one of its oldest and dearest members. The oil lamp in the tent remained lit, the silhouettes of three speaking figures sitting closely together as more goodbyes and words of love and concern were shared.

She would be gone in the morning.


	15. For He Could Not Recognise Himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maebh comes to terms with her unexpected feelings and Arthur makes a startling confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is fairing well and looking after yourselves. Whether you're self-isolating at home or working hard, I hope we can at least provide a small but entertaining distraction for you's. This was a fun one to write, and perhaps you can tell, things are starting to get a bit spicy. Thanks as always to those sticking around! We have a ways to go heh Any thoughts at all, feel free to make a comment. I love hearing how you're all finding this story so far!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “The Real State of Independence” — Nick Schillace, “Graves” — Whiskey Shivers, “Barton Hallow” — the Civil Wars, “Ecstasy (Instrumental Edit)” — Crooked Still

** _20th Feb, 1894, outside Fulton, South Dakota_ **

_The mood in camp has improved a bit since we lost Bessie. That doesn’t mean things are easier to deal with though. Folks are more eager to get out and do jobs rather than stick around, although I’m not sure if it’s because they actually want to _ _make_ _ money. If you were to ask me why I stayed out for days on end, it was only because I hated returning to see Hosea by himself. I don’t know if I’m just worrying unnecessarily, but he seems to have a drink in his hand most evenings now. But it is still early days. The gang has never known loss like this, so he has to cope somehow. I’ll keep an eye on him at least, in case things get out of hand. I’m sure Dutch is watching him carefully too._

_Because poor Susan and Dutch were the first ones to try return some normalcy, they’ve endeavoured to keep spirits up within the gang. They’re ensuring people keep busy with work and organising games of poker and five finger fillet when they can. Though it doesn’t fill the unsettling gap that has formed within the camp, it gives us something to take our minds off things. It’s only now when I can’t have those comforting talks with Bessie do I realise how much I needed them. I guess all we can do is keep going, but not forget about her along the way. I don’t think I even could if I wanted to._

_I sat by her grave next to the lake a few nights ago and sketched it out. It isn’t the best, but I hoped I could accurately capture the peaceful plot Hosea picked out._

_— R.I.P. Bessie _

_In the meantime, Bill, Uncle, & I are following a lead for the Bank of Watertown, about a day’s ride north from camp. Bill thinks we need one more person to come with us. I might ask one of the kids to come with us depending on who is busy already. I’m sure they could do with something to take their minds off more solemn thoughts._

* * *

Arthur placed his journal back into his satchel. With a yawn, he took a sip of his coffee, casting his eyes over the makeshift camp he put up last night. Boadicea stood a couple of metres away, grazing leisurely on the green grass below. He’d spent the last two days away from camp altogether, choosing instead to do some bounty hunting work out of Mitchell for extra money. It was a pleasant morning, but grey clouds on the horizon promised the weather wouldn’t hold up. He supposed he should return to camp as soon as he could, considering Dutch said he wanted to talk to him about the bank in the next couple of days. He couldn’t avoid it forever.

Soon, he was tearing down his makeshift camp and hoisting himself into his saddle. He directed Boadicea back towards camp, fondly patting her neck.

“I gotta go back sometime, right, girl?” he asked the mare, feeling no guilt about talking to an animal that couldn’t really answer.

She huffed as he urged her into a gentle trot.

“Maybe I’m better off goin’ back to see ’em again,” he continued to ponder aloud. “Could do me some good. Who do you think we should take along on the bank job, girl? I was thinkin’ either Marston, or one of the Hennigans, or maybe even Karen if she ain’t already tied up.”

She huffed again with a shake of her head and he laughed.

“Yeah, I think one’a them would be a good addition too.”

The journey home was calming and the roads mostly empty. Arthur kept himself occupied by singing tunes under his breath, enjoying the time he had to himself. Sometimes days away from everyone else was desperately needed when they lived in such close quarters.

As he rode down the trail that led to camp, Karen’s voice called out. “Who’s there?”

“It’s Arthur!”

“Welcome back! Hope you didn’t cause too much trouble out there.”

He noticed that camp was surprisingly empty as he hitched Boadicea near his tent. He spotted Uncle and Bill by the campfire, a newly-healed Pádraig carrying sacks of grain to the chicken coop, Pearson fishing at the lake, Miss Grimshaw cleaning up around the food wagon, and Reverend Swanson recovering from a questionable hangover in his tent — something that had become common place at this point, but still worrying for most. Even Copper was nowhere to be seen. He waved to those who welcomed him back before throwing some of his earnings into the collection box. He briefly dipped his head into Dutch’s tent, as well as a few of the others and saw no one. With a shrug, he decided to sit in his own tent and change into some cleaner clothes after working hard on those bounties. 

Not long after he changed did he hear a small group returning to camp. Coming down along the shoreline were Dutch, Hosea, Annabelle, and Maebh, carrying their fishing polls and sacks of fish over their shoulders. The former waved Arthur over with a grin. Copper was trotting along beside them and immediately came running once he saw his owner.

“Looks like you lot had fun,” he noted as he approached them, pointing to the bags. When Copper began to jump up in greeting, he rubbing the dog’s head affectionately. “That’s a lot of food for the next while.”

“That it is,” Dutch agreed with pride. “Hosea told me before ’bout a good spot further up the creek. I suggested a lil trip for fun. Been a while since we got some fishin’ done, and Miss Maebh and Miss Annabelle were more than happy to accompany us.”

“I hope you like pike, Mr Morgan,” Annabelle quipped, gestured to the sack in her hands. “Because we got a lot of it.”

“I’m a simple man who loves any kinda food, m’lady,” he chuckled. “So consider me pleased.”

“It’s a shame you couldn’t join us,” Hosea said. “We could’ve told the ladies ’bout how we taught you to fish.”

“Maybe it’s better I _didn’t_ go then. That story hardly paints me in a good light.”

“Well then we _definitely_ need to hear it,” Maebh added. “Especially if it’s embarrassin’.”

They left the bags of pike at Pearson’s table, the cook returning to his wagon as he saw them approach. With a word of thanks, he went about gutting their catch, Annabelle and Hosea joining to help as well. 

“We can arrange another trip soon,” Dutch agreed, placing his fishing poll in the tent. “And then you can join us, Arthur.”

“Sure,” he replied, not exactly arguing. “Sounds good.” He threw a glance over his shoulder at Hosea. “How’s he doin’?”

Dutch seemed grim. “As you’d expect. He’s tryin’ to stay busy, but sometimes he just sits and drinks with a book in his hand. Can’t say I blame him too much. He’ll probably be mournin’ a long time. But we’re all keepin’ a watchful eye on him. I think despite it all, he had fun today.”

Arthur hummed. “I suppose that’s all we can do.”

“O’course. How did you enjoy your time away?”

“Just fine. Did some bounty huntin’ and got us some money.”

“Good work, son. I can always rely on you. You think you’re ’bout ready to focus all your attention on the bank, now?”

Arthur chuckled, grasping his belt buckle in his hands. “Ya know I love robbin’ banks, Dutch.”

“That’s why I know you’re the right man for the job! Bill was tellin’ me you want to bring someone else onboard?”

Arthur nodded. “I was thinkin’ either John, William, Maebh, or Karen. Any of them will do just fine.”

“Well, then how ’bout you bring Maebh along?” Dutch suggested. “She’s here now, after all. You make a good team and she can help keep Bill in line.”

He shrugged, more than happy to take his advice. “Sure. Why not?”

Dutch was quick to call the young woman over. She obediently approached the tent and asked. “What do yis need?”

“You up for a big job?”

Arthur noticed how her eyes briefly flicked to him before answering uncertainly. “Uh, sure…? What job?”

“Arthur, Bill, and Uncle are workin’ on a bank job up in Watertown. They need another set of capable hands and I think you’re just the person they need.”

“Right. Eh, okay,” she answered. “I’ll help.”

“Good, good. Have you been to Watertown before, Miss Hennigan?” When she shook her head, Dutch got to his feet and looked between them. “Alright. Arthur, you’ll need to help familiarise her with the area. Bring her up to the city tomorrow, show her the bank. The trip there and back will take a couple days, so in the meantime, go over the plan with her. Make sure she knows everythin’ she needs to.”

“O’course.”

Dutch seemed happy with the arrangement. With an eager grin her pulled out the map of Watertown from his bedside table and lead them both to one of the camp tables near his tent. “With a team like this, that bank won’t stand a chance. Now, while Pearson prepares out catch, we can go over the plans.”

They took a seat at his command and as Dutch began to point out the bank’s location for Maebh, Arthur kept a close eye on her. He already knew this information, so he could afford himself a glance in her direction every now and then. She _was_ paying attention — that much was evident — but there was something about her that seemed unsure or hesitant. He supposed it was her first big job in a while, so perhaps she was nervous after all that happened with Bessie. He would ask her about it later, just to make sure she was okay.

“… and it’s located just here,” Dutch was rambling on, giving her all the details. “On Birch Street in the eastern side of town. It’s near enough to the outskirts, which is very handy for a robbery such as ours.”

“It’s still a big city bank,” she noted. “How come you’s aren’t bringin’ more people along?”

“’Cause you’ll be hittin’ it at night,” Dutch elaborated. “Bill got talkin’ to a drunk feller while visitin’ the city last week. Turns out, the drunk is not only a regular drinker at one of the local hotels, but also a manager at the bank who brings his damn keys along with him. If anythin’, the place is _askin’_ to be picked clean. I’m surprised it hasn’t been yet.”

“So the plan is to pick-pocket the keys off this fella while he’s pissed drunk?”

“Exactly. He always goes to drink as much as he can in the same hotel on the same days in the week. Once you four get those keys, you can get in and out in one night without the law bein’ none the wiser. In and out — no need for weapons or holdin’ the place up. All you need is a look out and some quick hands.”

Maebh seemed mildly amused. “And that eejit is goin’ t’wake up with a hangover and no job the next mornin’.”

“Serves him right, if ya ask me,” Arthur added. “We’re just lucky he ain’t been fired yet.”

“Which is why we should take advantage of this. It’s an easy take, my friends, one with which we could do a lot of good. And I’ll be much more confident in the plan with you two onboard as well. You’re some of the best guns I got in this band of outlaws.”

“We won’t let you down, Dutch,” Arthur assured him confidently. “In and out with no law. Maebh and I will make sure of it.”

“Do you have a specific time you want us to rob it?” Maebh asked. “Soon?”

“There tends to be a spike in visitors and new residents goin’ to Watertown in the summer months, which means more money in those safes for us to get our hands on. For that reason, I say wait until around the start of June. That way, we’ll get the best result we can out of this. For now, I’d like you two to head up there together and familiarise yourselves with the area. Do what you need to do.” They both nodded, rousing a smile from the older man. He looked between them, growing serious. “I’m lucky to have you two in this gang, this family. You never let me down, no matter what task I put in front o’ya.”

Arthur didn’t get a chance to express his shock at Dutch’s words. He wasn’t sure why, but anytime he was given a compliment from his long-time friend, it usually made him falter. He wasn’t used to compliments _regardless_, but the sheer sincerity in Dutch’s words always did a number on him. He felt truly wanted and appreciated and only desired to do more for him… To do more to make him really proud.

“Dutch,” Miss Grimshaw called, approaching hastily. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need a hand with Reverend Swanson. He’s…” She paused, frustrated. “Well, y’know… Poor bastard is in a bad way.”

Dutch sighed heavily and got to his feet. “That man will be seein’ those pearly gates sooner rather than later if he keeps this up. Excuse me.”

With the two of them leaving to attend to the forsaken reverend, Arthur remained at the table. He scratched the back of his neck and threw a glance at Maebh. “Seems like Swanson’s carry on has become a regular thing, ain’t it?”

She nodded sadly. “The lad has his demons, no pun intended. That bible he keeps… Well, it doesn’t offer him any genuine salvation.”

“Oh, I know. Trust me.” He cleared his throat, opting for a lighter subject to discuss. “Say, where’s that brother o’yours?”

“In town with Marston and Miss Roberts. They’re keepin’ an eye on her while she’s out workin’.”

“Ah, right, right. I’m glad she’s settled in well. I’m sure you can relate to feelin’ nervous when you first joined. What do you think of her?”

“Uh…” She stammered briefly, her hands fidgeting on the surface of the table. “Yeah, she’s… really nice. She’s good to chat with.”

“Yeah,” he agreed when she didn’t say much else. “She’s a good kid.”

His words seem to only make her fidgeting worse. Her eyes remained focused on her hands as she hummed along to what he said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He raised a brow, mildly confused by her behaviour. “You alright?”

His question caught her off guard. Her green eyes briefly met his. “Huh?”

“I asked if you’re alright. You seem a little… _off_ today.”

“Oh… Yeah.” She rubbed a hand over her face and appeared a bit more composed. “Sorry, I think I’m just havin’ a bad day. They’re a bit more frequent since Bessie passed.”

Well, that’s certainly fair, he supposed. He could understand some ‘off days’ considering it hadn’t been _that_ long since they lost Bessie. He had them himself too. If anything, they all did. “I understand. Ya know you can talk to me if you need to, right?”

“Thanks, Arthur,” she offered with a small smile and got to her feet. “If there’s nothin’ else you need to go over with me right now, I’m goin’ t’go catch up on some readin’.”

“Sure.” Before he could offer anything else, she was walking briskly to her tent , leaving him sitting on his own. He looked around camp, feeling awkward after the hasty interaction. A wet nose pressing against his hand caught his attention and he looked down to see Copper wagging his tail expectantly. Arthur sighed and scratched the dog’s ear, sending one of his back legs into a twitching fit. “At least I got you, right, boy?”

He couldn’t do much other than hope she would be in better form for their trip tomorrow.

* * *

The following day, Maebh sat alone in her tent, eyes peering at the blank pages of her journal. She flipped a pencil back and forth between her fingers, anxious at the very thought of pressing the lead into the pages.

Someone clearing their throat caused her to raise her head. William stood in the entrance of her tent peering at her curiously. “You’ve been starin’ so hard at that paper, I figured there were naked fellas on it.”

Maebh chuckled as he took a seat next to her. “No naked fellas. I’m tryin’ to just… _write_, I guess.”

“What are you strugglin’ for? I’ve seen you writin’ away in it plenty of times.”

“I’ve only ever written down my thoughts,” she explained. “Like a diary. Right now, I’m tryin’ to write a story, like when we were kids. Remember how I used to write stories and you would act them out for ma and da? Or how we recreated the myths?”

“Of course I do,” he replied, grinning happily at the memory. “I, for one, think I made a great Cú Chulainn.”

His confidence made her laugh. Somehow, no matter what mood she was in, William never struggled to make her joyful again. “Definitely the performance of a lifetime.”

“I also really liked that one you wrote ’bout the two Brits arguin’ over the antique lamp. You should look at that again, sometime. Maybe rewrite it now that you’re older.”

“I would, if I could manage to write _anythin’_ right now.” She let out a huff, shutting the book abruptly. “It’s a load of shite. It feels like I’ve no inspiration at all. All I can think ’bout is the bank in Watertown.”

“Well, you can’t force it,” William offered her sympathetically. “Forcin’ it won’t give you anythin’ good either.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You still recite Othello to yourself when you sit here readin’ it. Not to mention your rendition of ‘Alas, poor Yorick’ when we went huntin’ a few days ago.”

“I suppose I haven’t lost my dramatic flare, but I think the diversion on the train back in Iowa inspired me a bit. It was fun. It reminded me a bit of bein’ home, y’know? Tell ya what. Once you get an idea written down, I’d love to read it for you. It’ll be like when we were kids back on the farm in Ireland.”

She appreciated his help of course. She always did. William made it his business to cheer her up when things got to her. She always made sure to do the same as well. Given recent happenings at camp, it seemed like she spent most of her time with her brother, not that she was against that. 

His eyes grew suddenly wide as if inspiration had struck. “Oh! Better yet, you should write a story where I get to loaf another guy in the face, and that guy can be played by Marston!”

“Jesus,” she sighed, half laughing and half shocked. “What did he do to piss you off so much?”

William threw a glance at the man they were discussin’, carbine in hand as he headed off to guard duty. “He was bein’ a right bollocks in town yesterday. Anytime I spoke to Abigail he gave me filthies, and not the usual filthies where I do somethin’ to instigate it.”

Maebh raised her brow. “Really? Why’s that?”

“Oh, he fully fancies Abigail, I think.”

“Oh?” Now _that_ had definitely piqued her interest. The thought of John fancying anyone was useful ammunition for her, considering he had teased her on many occasions for liking men in passing towns or ranches. He gave her some hefty mocking over that bloody stableboy, and God help her if he ever realised how she looks at Arthur… She grinned, loving a bit of camp gossip as much as anyone. If this was true, he was definitely in for a decent slagging. “You think?”

William nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah. He was givin’ me dirty looks when I came out of her tent earlier too. I’m not bein’ rude to her or anythin’. I _like_ her, she’s a nice girl and I wouldn’t treat her badly. But _Jaysus_, Marston is bein’ really stupid ’bout it. You’d swear they were bleedin’ married or somethin’.”

“Either that, or he’s assertin’ himself as the most suitable bachelor goin’ ’round here.”

The very suggestion of such a thing had him grimacing. “He’ll be pissin’ in front of her tent next.”

She laughed heartily at that, the image too irresistibly funny to not. “Oh, God help her. She’s too nice to be dealin’ with him. Plus, she has to do her work and he shouldn’t try to interfere with that.”

“She doesn’t take any shite either. I could well see her clappin’ him for bein’ a little bollocks. He just needs to relax a bit. I’m convinced he doesn’t know how to actually deal with his emotions. And if he really thinks he’s the best lookin’ guy at camp, then he’s deluded.”

Maebh let out a snort at that. “You think very highly of yourself.”

The look he gave her was mischievous. He grinned cheekily. “I was talkin’ about Arthur, actually. You don’t agree?”

“Uh, what?”

“You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you’re _leerin’_ at him lately?”

She hushed him quickly, glancing outside the tent. “Wouldja keep your voice down! Or speak in Irish, one or the other!”

Her anxiety seemed to give him some sense of amusement. His eyes were practically twinkling in delight. “What? You worried ’bout him hearin’ me?”

“I’m worried ’bout the whole camp hearin’ you with how loudly you said that!” she snapped, losing all patience in her panic.

“Hey…” His hand gently grasping hers pulled her eyes away from their surroundings. “Calm down, no one heard me. I’ll keep my voice down. I’m just slaggin’ you a bit. Your reaction confirmed my suspicions anyway.”

She looked at him hesitantly, unsure as that what exactly she could say. “Suspicions?”

He nodded. “While we’re slaggin’ off Marston for fancyin’ Miss Roberts, I think you might like Arthur.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Bar you lookin’ at him like he’s a walkin’ meal? Maebh, you’re my sister — I can tell when you fancy someone. Look, it’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about. You’s get on really well anyway, so I’m not completely surprised. Just stop bein’ so hard on yourself about it, alright? There’s no need to avoid him like he’s the bleedin’ plague.”

Though William was being supportive as always, Maebh noticed that he had not told her what to specifically do about her feelings for Arthur. She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised by him noticing; he was always one for observing the mannerisms of people around him. Plus, who knew her better than her own brother?

“I’m not tellin’ you what to do,” he went on. “I’m jut tryin’ to make sure you don’t ruin your friendship over this. He’s still Arthur. Don’t lose him for the sake of your own confusin’ feelin’s. And if you ever want to vent a bit, I’m always here for you. No need to make a mountain out of a mole hill, right?”

As if right on queue, Arthur’s voice cut through their conversation. Maebh’s head snapped in the call’s direction, seeing him standing beside the nearby hitching posts. He waved and called again. “You ready to head out?”

She uttered a quick thank you to her brother before gathering her belongings and sharing her goodbyes. Dutch was there to wish them the best of luck. Once sitting atop their mounts, Arthur and Maebh headed out, following the roads north to the distant town that would soon become the latest victim of the Van der Linde Gang.

* * *

Watertown was a city under constant construction. According to Arthur, it prospered as a transportation hub when the railway lines extended farther west. Now, as their horses trotted side by side through its streets, she could understand why its population had shot up to a couple thousand in ten years, and why it was still growing. The more houses and facilities that were built, the more residents and travellers were flocking to find their dream home. Maebh peered into the sky, put off by the sight of smoke billowing from its nearby Roller Mills. Having grown accustomed to sleeping under the stars, certain aspects of cities displeased her, while others only intrigued her curious mind.

As Dutch had promised, it took them a day of travelling with numerous rests in between to arrive at their destination. It was mid-afternoon when they had arrived at Birch Street. As they walked by, allowing the horses to move slowly so that they had more time it sneakily eye up the Bank of Watertown and discuss their plan of action, Arthur explained that the East Watertown Hotel where the bank’s manager drank was not far away. Maebh had been worried that the journey in his company would be awkward given her latest revelation. That being said, the man showed surprising self awareness when it came to reading the atmosphere. He chatted idly with her, telling her about the bounty work he did while he was away, but then allowed time for comfortable silence where they could be alone with their thoughts. He lead the conversation until she once again felt familiar and comfortable in her friend’s company. It was odd — somehow, he could lull her into a sense of ease with his calming voice, all the while making her heart race with a wide smile… Okay, so maybe getting over her crush might be a _smidge_ difficult, but William was right; this was still her friend, Arthur. So when he made the suggestion of visiting the hotel for some food, she wasn’t about to refuse him.

Next thing she knew, she was sitting across from him in a cosy hotel with a steaming hot fried walleye in front of her.

Here she was, yet again.

They briefly discussed the manager’s usual seat and the plan to distract him in his drunken stupor while another one of them picked the keys from his belt. Easy peasy. Then the conversation took a more casual turn.

“How’s that journal treatin’ you?” Arthur asked her as he took a sip from his beer. “I noticed you was workin’ on it before we left. Write any good stories yet?”

“Uh, not exactly,” she admitted with a sense of shame. “I’ve had no problems writin’ some journal entries like you do, but haven’t had any success on the fictional writin’ side of things.”

“Really? You got a bit of writer’s block?”

She nodded her head, swallowing a piece of walleye. “I think so. I’ve no clue what to write about.”

Arthur peered at his food thoughtfully. “Well, ya said you used to write when you were a little kid. How did you go about it back then?”

“I mostly rewrote whatever stories my ma told me and then I moved on to tellin’ my own ones. A lot of them were inspired by Irish mythology and legends. My ma _loved_ tellin’ us those at bedtime. I can’t think of another person who can tell a story as vividly as her. Maybe Hosea is a close runner up, but she was certainly passionate and vibrant in her retellin’ of tales.” Maebh suddenly chuckled to herself, recalling fond memories on their old farm in Ireland. She remembered the sensation of her mother tucking her into bed at night before going on a rambling tirade about Oisín and Tír na nÓg, and the Children of Lir, stories she already knew off by heart, but never tired of hearing again and again. “Me and William used to love those stories so much that we would reenact them in the fields. I’d write them with dialogue and William would act them out for our parents.”

“You mean like in a theatre?” Arthur asked, an amused smile pulling at his lips.

“Oh yeah. We pretended like our house was one. Eventually I started writin’ my own stories for William to act out. It became a little tradition of ours.”

“Y’know, William bein’ the actor doesn’t even remotely surprise me. Especially after his performance on the train.”

“I know it’s probably not surprisin’, but he’s always wanted to be an actor or performer of some sort. He couldn’t get enough of playin’ a part with our parents actin’ as the audience. And he’s good too, for his age. He still reads Shakespeare even though he knows his favourite works off by heart. I sometimes hear him recitin’ poems to himself too. I suppose I shouldn’t be very surprised ’bout it though — our da was a great fiddle player, y’know? And he had William playin’ from a young age too. He always encourage creativity and imagination. He hasn’t played since Wisconsin, but at least he could purchase some of his favourite books again and get back into the swing of things in that regard.”

“Fiddle player, huh?” Arthur appeared impressed. “Sounds like that boy is destined to be on a stage.”

“I think so too. I think this was my parents’ plan from the get go, to be honest. They apparently named him after Shakespeare, which is kinda funny to me now.”

“No kiddin’,” Arthur replied with a chuckle, eyes flicking between his food and her face. “Where’d you get your name then? Surely there’s a story behind yours too?”

In between his questions, she popped another piece of fish into her mouth. “You’d be right in that assumption actually. My ma named me after this warrior queen from the west of Ireland. Her name was spelled the old Irish way, but I’m still named after her. Don’t tell Marston there’s other ways to spell it or he might have a heart attack.”

He looked back at her curiously, seemingly intrigued by the confession. “They named you after a _queen?” _

She nodded. “And arguably the most powerful queen we’ve ever had. There’s so many literary tales ’bout her and we don’t even know if she really existed, or if she was just a myth. See, back in ancient Ireland, the Brehon Laws stated that women were equal with men, so they had the power to control their own armies, own their own property, become lawyers and judges, and even choose who they married. Queen Medb basically did what she wanted ’cause she was so powerful. One of the most famous Irish stories involves her invadin’ a province ’cause she wanted the King’s bull.”

Arthur blinked in confusion. “His _bull?”_

Maebh set her hands down on the table, prepared to tell a very short version of the story. “Alright, so… Medb was married to this guy, King Ailill, and they were both comparin’ all their wealthy possessions when he proclaimed he had this pristine white bull. Medb had no bull of her own, and got jealous ’cause this implied Ailill had more power than her. So, she heard about this brown bull up north that could easily best Ailill’s bull. The only problem is the it’s owned by Daire of Cooley. Long story short, she asks him for a loan of the bull — even offers him a large plot of land and fifty cows in exchange — and he initially agrees before refusin’ her. Medb decides to invade Cooley for the bull. There’s a battle involving two of the country’s most worthy warriors, all the while Medb sneakily steals the brown bull. When they return to their land in Connacht, the two bulls battle for an entire day and the white bull is bested. Unfortunately for her, the brown bull fled back to Cooley and dropped dead upon arrival. In the end, this meant that neither Medb nor Ailill were richer than the other.”

“All that hassle over a bull, huh?” Arthur asked, having been listening patiently to her story. “And her status?”

“She took it very seriously,” she joked with a smile. “There’s a lot of stories about her, but they’re very interestin’ and entertainin’.”

“Well then you’re gonna have to tell me some more,” he said cheerfully. “But this time I want to hear the long versions. Maybe retellin’ some of those old stories might get your head back in the right space to write your own.”

She smiled beyond her own control, staring at him in amazement. “Really?”

“O’course. Why’re you actin’ so surprised? You’re a good storyteller. Maybe you could even write ’em down for me to read. That way, you can practice your writin’ with somethin’ familiar first.”

Why did he do this? _How_ did he do this? How was it that any kind gesture he offered her caused her heart to hammer against her rib cage? Why was it that even the way he drank his coffee in the morning left her transfixed? She felt stupid and childish but she couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop looking at him like he held all the answers. And yet, a part of her genuinely believed that this rugged outlaw had shown her more kindness than any ‘civilised’ individual she had met in her life. He stole from the rich and had no problems killing those in his way, and yet he asked to read the stories she wrote, bought her a journal to practice, and cared for his horse as though she was the most precious thing he had come across. He wore his father’s hat — a man he claimed was a nasty bastard. He stayed with Hosea through the night when he lost the person he adored more than anything. 

And yet, this man never had a good word to say about himself despite the good he did.

The only way she could describe Arthur Morgan, was as a man whose most ruthless quality was his inability to see himself as anything other than ruthless.

How could she _not_ be so captivated by him?

_Okay, so maybe it’ll be a bit more than a smidge difficult to get over this crush…_

“Thank you, Arthur,” she said after realising she had yet to actually speak aloud. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good,” he offered in return. “I would too.” There was a brief silence then while he took a swig from his drink. He cleared his throat before adding in a lower voice. “Actually, now that I think of it, I meant to talk to ya before but didn’t get a chance…”

She couldn’t help the way she jumped at the thought. Her mind raced, thinking about sickeningly romantic confessions before she could stop herself. “Talk to me ’bout, eh, what?”

“It’s to do with Wisconsin and your parents. It must’a been difficult for you to tell me that. I know it ain’t easy. I didn’t have a relationship with my momma and daddy like you did, so I can’t imagine how that must’a felt. I don’t really have any family bar the gang.” He paused, eyes narrowing. “Well, that ain’t entirely true. I got _some_ family, I guess…”

“You do?”

He sighed heavily, running his hand up and down the smooth surface of the table. “We’ve known each other a long time. I guess there isn’t any harm in tellin’ you somethin’ personal after what you’ve shared with me.” She remained silent, allowing him to take all the time he needed to say… whatever it was he needed to share. A small smile crossed his face as he spoke. “Well, first of all, I do have _some_ family. It ain’t the traditional type by any means, but I got ’em. I’ve got a son.”

Maebh’s eyes widened beyond her control while a small part of her twisted with anxiety. She repeated his statement in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. He’s a really good kid,” he said with genuine fondness. The smile he wore was one she had not yet witnessed. “He’s still young — only four — but I try to visit him for a couple days every few months. That’s where I go all the time, ya see.”

“I always wondered,” she admitted shyly. The more he spoke, the more surprised she was. No, she certainly had not foreseen _that_ as the reason why he left the gang so frequently. “But I hand’t expected a secret son.”

“I’d be impressed if you did.”

“What’s his name?”

“Isaac.” He chuckled slightly before he looked away blissfully. “His mother, Eliza, is a waitress I met…”

Oh.

_Oh._

_Yeah, I forgot about that part. Okay, then._

She kept her mouth shut tight as Arthur continued on, her stomach well and truly dropping with each word he said. “When she got pregnant, I knew I couldn’t promise her things I couldn’t keep considerin’ my lifestyle. But she knew then — she knew what I was, so she was just happy that I would come see the boy. I couldn’t promise them a lot, but I could promise that I would do right by them and be around. She was just a kid when she got pregnant — only nineteen — so I wasn’t gonna leave her to manage completely on her own.”

She bit her lip, torn that he had felt comfortable enough to tell her about his situation, but also hating hearing that he possibly had a woman of his own already. She knew it was selfish, but part of her couldn’t help but feel a little put down with his admission. She never suspected that there might be any possibility of reciprocated feelings, but now, knowing that he was in such a situation, her self doubt only amplified itself. And yet, she couldn’t help but admire him for his reaction to the situation. She pictured him carrying a little brunette boy on his shoulders, putting his hat on his son’s much smaller head. For a man who could be as harsh as possible when the occasion called for it, she imagined a tenderness to which only his son could truly bear witness. 

She didn’t realise at the time, but she was only falling harder.

“You did the right thing by stickin’ ’round for them,” she said, meaning every word. “And Isaac will be better off havin’ his father in his life.”

“Hopefully he can grow up to be a better man than me,” he pondered with a chuckle. “I’d rather he did something different with his life. Maybe be a farmer or a lawyer, or even a doctor. Somethin’… _good_.”

“He can be whatever he wants,” she agreed. “But he’s still lucky to have a father as carin’ as you, Arthur.”

As per usual, her compliment had him averting his eyes and laughing. “I fear you show me more kindness than I deserve, Maebh.”

“I disagree, but thanks for sharin’ this with me. I’d say it’s very personal for you.”

He picked up his bottle of beer, a small smile finding its way to his lips. “It is, but you were brave enough to share your past with me too. There’s a lot of trust in that and, well, it feels nice to tell someone else about.” He shook his head suddenly. “Sorry, I went off on a tangent there, but what I was tryin’ to get at was some advice for your writin’. Life can be full of surprises, some worse than others. But we gotta take it one day at a time. Look to your own past experiences. Use them as inspiration. Or look to your mother’s stories. They’re all good startin’ points, right? But they’re familiar emotions that you can understand as you try to convey them on paper.”

She expressed appreciation for his advice but, before she could say much else, Arthur spotted the bank manager coming into the hotel for his routine alcohol-related splurge. From then on, the conversation steered back to the bank and their target. They studied him carefully, noting his attire and mannerisms, as well as the keys that hung on his belt. They got more drinks purely so they could sit and watch him closely.

While she was glad he had trusted her enough to share something dear to his heart, she was also happy for the conversation shift. She kept her mouth shut about Eliza, never asking more questions because she didn’t really want to hear the answers. Did Arthur care for this woman? Were they together in some capacity? She brushed it off — surely her fondness for him would pass eventually and return to the way it used to be before her heart made things so complicated.

With their meals finished and the sun setting, they couldn’t do anything more in Watertown that night. The bank manager was already drunk, but they had to steal his keys the day of the robbery, least he notice beforehand and raise the alarm. Arthur asked whether she’d rather they rent a room or make camp outside of town. She opted for the latter, eager to get some fresh air and clear her thoughts under the familiar flicker of the night sky.

It was sometime later when they pitched their tents and lit a small campfire. Their horses grazed nearby, safely hitched to a large tree. The two friends sat in comfortable silence. Maebh was nestled in her tent, pencil timidly tracing along the pages of her journal as she made an attempt to retell the story of the Cattle Raid of Cooley. Her inexperienced hand jittered nervously until her words grew more confident and vivid in their description.

Arthur sat opposite her, not yet retiring to his tent, but choosing to sit next to the warm fire for a moment longer. He too held his journal in hand, but while she told tales of Queen Medb’s power, he focused on the only Maebh he had ever known. Unbeknownst to her, the lead of his pencil moved swiftly, lines and scribbles capturing her huddled form, bringing to life the crease of concentration in her brow and her pouting lips.

Arthur stopped feeling shame about his love for drawing her. When he looked back on the moments he had captured, it seemed unreasonable to ever forget them.

He would gladly spend a lifetime trying to do her justice with his pencils and paper. Perhaps someday he would get it right.


	16. Blood Will Have Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang celebrates William's birthday, and John and Maebh realise over drinks that they might have more in common than originally thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you's to (hopefully) enjoy! I also wanted to say, I'm trying my best to follow certain dates that the games confirm through dialogue, but I have made changes here and there for the sake of this story in particular. They're only small though... But anyway, I hope everyone reading is doing okay and staying safe. Any thoughts at all, feel free to throw them down in the comments!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): "Sam’s Hunting Trip” — Jeff Russo, “King of the Northern Forest” — Peter Ostroushko, This Is The Life” — Amy Macdonald, “Gooey” — Glass Animals

** _13th April, 1894, outside Fulton, South Dakota_ **

_I’ve been thinking a lot about mine and Arthur’s conversation in Watertown. With more preparations for the bank coming into place, my mind always drifts back to his admission. _

_I’m not quite sure how to feel about it. It seems like a small weight has been lifted off his shoulders now, as he talks to me openly about Isaac when alone or in someone else’s company who already knows of his situation. It’s limited to Dutch, Hosea, John, and Miss Grimshaw. And now _ _me_ _, apparently. I’m somewhat honoured and overwhelmed all at once. But I will admit, it was quite nice to wish him luck the last time he left to visit his family, and equally pleasant to hear what stories he had about little Isaac upon his return. Whatever content feelings I have in his company as he talks about his son and Eliza, they are swiftly replaced by sorrow when I’m left on my own. It’s selfish of me to make it about myself, but I can’t help the meandering thoughts that consume my head at night. So, he has a son. The issue is that he has a _ _woman_ _. Well, sort of. Not particularly. He’s said they’re not involved with each other, but I’d be a fool to think he doesn’t care about her in some affectionate regard._

_I’ve not forgotten what Karen told me some time ago either. Not only does he have Eliza, but he is apparently still not over a woman he nearly married long ago. Her photo remains in his tent, a constant reminder that this man is not available in the way I wish he was. I’m lucky to have him in my life at all, but after months of trying to calm my insistent heart, I’m starting to wonder whether it’s even possible at all._

_Hopefully William’s birthday celebrations will help take my mind off things tonight. He seemed to like the shirt I got him, but he was more transfixed with the copy of Twelfth Night I gave him afterwards. No surprises there. I’m just happy to see him smiling again._

* * *

Celebrations were in due order, and Maebh felt better off for it.

She was in good spirits, mostly because William was in good spirits himself. In fact, the whole camp seemed eager to band together to celebrate the younger Hennigan’s nineteenth birthday.

The start of the day had been a somewhat emotional one as Hosea approached with a gift he had kept secret for sometime. He handed William a new bow, a present he and Bessie picked out together. 

“She said that the only thing you need’a be shootin’ is your dinner,” Hosea explained with a sad smile. “Happy Birthday, William.”

As the sun set on their camp outside Fulton, everyone in the gang was more than happy to make themselves present for the revelry. Pearson prepared a surprisingly pleasant meal of prairie chicken and vegetables, and Susan insisted that the ladies organise a cake with the local bakery in Mitchell. They had good food, good company, and good alcohol, which was all they really needed. Maebh supposed that perhaps people were simply happy to celebrate something positive after the somber loss of Bessie. 

William appeared in his element as the gang got to work and made sure all was ready for a night of celebration. Bill, Mac, and Davey carried crates of bear from the supply wagon and placed them at different spot around camp. Arthur and Maebh made an effort to hand out dinner so that Pearson could have a beer and play his concertina by the fire. Ever the showman, Dutch was the one to organise the first toast of the night.

“Gather ’round, my friends,” he invited them, the gang swarming to him obediently. The only one who remained away hesitantly was, Pádraig — he sat alone at the smaller campfire with a beer in hand, occupying himself with a deck of cards. Everyone else took their seats and, once they were all accounted for, Dutch continued on. His first statement roused some chuckles in the jovial crowd. “It would not be like me to miss an opportunity for a speech, but I will keep in uncharacteristically short, ’cause this night ain’t about me. This night, belongs to our dearest Irishman, young William Hennigan.” He raised his glass and the others followed in turn, cheering on the birthday boy who wore a large grin. Maebh sat next to him, delighting in his happy expression while Dutch continued on. “He’s one of our youngest members, but also one of our hardest workers. It doesn’t matter what job I lay at his feet — he’ll do it all in a heartbeat. I think I speak for everyone when I say your company these past four years has been a pleasure, my boy. Dare I say that I’m proud to see you grow into the man you are today. We all wish you the happiest of birthdays!” 

More cheers erupted, people clinking bottles and wishing William good birthday wishes in varying degrees. Maebh enjoyed seeing her brother so happy after all they had been through. It was a simple pleasure that would always bring her joy.

“Now,” Dutch began again, easily gaining their attention once more. “While I’m still up here, I’ve got a gift for the birthday boy. Annabelle, my dear…”

Right on queue, Annabelle turned in her seat and lifted something from the ground. She handed it to Dutch, his back shielding the surprise from William and Maebh’s curious eyes. When he turned around, he held in his hand a fiddle and bow. She stared in disbelief as he offered it to the young man, her eyes flitting across the fire to settle on Arthur. He caught her eye and offered her a bashful smile for the briefest of moments.

“We might’a heard that you fancied yourself a fiddle-player,” Dutch explained. “Back when your father taught you himself. Thought now might be a good time to take up the hobby again, so we all pitched in and got ya this. It’s a gift from all of us, to you, son. Losin’ family is one of the toughest things you can face. We all know that well now, so maybe it’s time we try embrace more of the simple things that bring us some much needed joy.”

There weren’t many times in her life where Maebh could describe her brother as speechless, but this was definitely one of them. He sat in baffled awe, looking between the instrument and the gang. Half of the men wore proud smirks, while the women appeared touched by his reaction.

“You gonna take the damn thing or leave him hangin’, Hennigan?” Karen teased him, already half-cut. “Go on!”

With more encouragement from the others, the young man conceded, carefully taking the fiddle and bow in his hands. He held them with expert care, as though they were made of irreplaceable glass. Maebh could feel her eyes stinging at the gang’s gesture, subtly biting her bottom lip to hold back any embarrassing tears. She felt Abigail link her arm through hers, the gesture bringing with it a sense of genuine comfort. 

“Thank you,” William said, his voice uncharacteristically serious as he addressed them all. “Really, all of you. This is… far more than I even deserve.”

“What, nothin’ smart to say?” John hollered playfully. “That ain’t like you!”

“Don’t encourage him,” Davey laughed. “Or you’ll be sorry for it later.”

William admired the instrument’s strings as he spoke. “For once, I’m all outta sarcastic quips.”

“You made the boy speechless, Dutch,” Uncle chuckled, thoroughly amused. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I think we can all take some credit on this occasion,” Dutch replied as he took his seat next to Annabelle again. “It’s a shared victory.”

“It’s a fine instrument,” Hosea noted, peering at it with genuine interest. “You best look after it. I bet it sounds fantastic.”

“Well, you can’t get a gift like that and not play us a song,” Bill insisted. “C’mon, now. We wanna hear somethin’.”

“Oh, yes,” Abigail agreed excitedly. “Give us a song, William!"

Reverend Swanson concurred. “Such a fine gift should be played at every chance you get.”

William looked to his sister curiously. “Whatcha think?”

“I think you need to get up and appease your crowd,” she replied, urging him out of his seat. “Play somethin’ Da showed you.”

“Somethin’ to transport us to the Emerald Isle!” Mac agreed.

They all began to holler and cheer, insisting that a song be played for the occasion. It didn’t take much prodding to get William on his feet, but Maebh could see the uncertainty behind his eyes. He never cared about singing in front of a crowd, or acting out a scene from his favourite play, but it had been many years since he had touched a fiddle. He was sure to be somewhat rusty, but the gang insisted. Calls for an upbeat song were loud, and he didn’t dare to disappoint. It may not seem like a big deal to his friends, but she was very proud to see him prepared to play a tune.

“Uncle,” he began, nodding to the old man. “Get your banjo out. I need you to support me on this one.”

“Is it one I know?” he replied as he grabbed his own instrument.

“I doubt it, but I’ll give you the chords as we go. We’ll be grand, right? Ah, and you too, Pearson! Keep that concertina out!”

“Play us away then!”

“Right,” William said with more certainty. He addressed the crowd with confidence, like a man well-versed onstage under the spotlight. “This is a jig my da showed me ages ago, so this could get hairy. Percussion in the form of slappin’ your hands on your legs ishighly encouraged.”

With a count of four, the two began to play, William paving the way with an upbeat Irish tune. He casually announced the chords to Uncle at the end of each bar as he played lead. As per his request, Maebh began to rhythmically pat her thigh in time, already familiar with the song he chose to play. Her lead caused the others to do the same, some hooting and clapping their hands instead. After hearing enough of them playing, Mr Pearson joined in, matching the chords Uncle was strumming and giving the song some more depth. He made some mistakes as one would expect, but that mattered little with the small smile he wore as he played. Maebh relished his expression, saving the image to a far corner of her mind lest she ever forget.

The trio continued to play along with William’s example. Growing more confident as he went, he slowly dipped out on two occasions to allow the other men a solo each. He guided them easily, showing that he had not yet lost his natural ability to command a crowd. When the song ended, everyone erupted into supportive applause. The attention had the young man beaming as he took a bow.

“I feel like I’m in a theatre in Saint Denis lookin’ at this,” Arthur laughed, clapping loudly. “Bravo!”

William took another bow. “Well, as my namesake says, _‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players…_’”

“Oh God,” Pearson chuckled. “He’s already quotin’ the Bard.”

“I can get a whole monologue goin’, if you’s want.”

“Maybe after you’ve played some more tunes,” Maebh advised, earning some cheers from the onlookers. “See?It’s what they want.”

“Give us another then,” Miss Grimshaw encouraged him, very much into the music. “Somethin’ we can sing to!”

“Do you take requests?” Davey asked. “Like _Ring-Dang-Do?”_

At that, Uncle was up and ready again. With William’s signal, he began to sing:

_“When I was just a lad you know, _

_I met a girl from ol’Bordeaux, _

_She had blonde hair and blue eyes too, _

_She let me ride on the ring-dang-do!”_

As the familiar chorus kicked in, the entire gang descended into a drunken sing-along, everyone managing to keep up with whatever lines they knew. The band played their instruments, struggling every now and then as they tried to sing along as well. Maebh followed their lead, basking in the rare moment of respite and camaraderie. Moments like these made her truly happy that she chose to ambush that stagecoach long ago.

As the evening continued, the gang began to split off into different groups around camp. Susan commandeered one of the tables to set off a Poker tournament (one she forced a nervous Pádraig to join), Dutch and William began to recite whatever sonnets they knew off the top of their heads, Uncle and Pearson started a cheerful rendition of _Glory, Glory Hallelujah_, and Bill and the Callander Brothers organised a drinking contest to see which outlaw was the best at holding their liquor. Karen was currently showing them how it was really done. Copper bounced between the groups, getting eager pats from everyone, especially Bill. Arthur and Hosea stuck together by one of the campfires, the former seemingly keeping an eye on his friend. Maebh dare say that he was not yet on his third bottle because his attention was so focused on Hosea.

A fresh beer was handed to her as Miss Roberts returned from fetching another round. She thanked her and clinked the bottles together as she reclaimed her seat on the log.

“So,” Maebh asked. “How does this match up against your life before joinin’?”

Abigail glanced around. “It’s certainly been a while since I’ve been to a party like this. Sometimes the girls would organise somethin’, but work usually got in the way. It beats robbin’ men who refused to pay at least.”

Maebh nodded with a laugh. “Yeah, that’s understandable. You should come out with me and Karen sometime. We can rob some rich people together, considerin’ you fancy yourself a pickpocket.”

“I’d like that. Maybe I can show you two some of my tricks.” She paused thoughtfully. “It _is_ nice, y’know. This certainly has its pluses. It feels good to be part of somethin’ new. Almost like a family.”

“Yeah, that’s how I felt when we joined at first too. We’d been on our own for a while and I’m not really sure if we would’ve lasted without this lot. I’m sure you would’ve been fine; you’re fairly tactful.”

“I was just survivin’. There’s only so long I could deal with livin’ in brothels. I didn’t wanna do it forever, y’know? And I’ll give him credit, the offer Uncle proposed that day in the Jackfish was better than what I had at the time. It helps that y’all are good people too.”

Maebh smiled at that. “Ah, we’re alright I suppose. It’s nice havin’ you around too. We’re kinda outnumbered with all the lads here, so it’s always good to have another woman around.”

“It probably sounds dumb, but it’s real nice that you and Karen are near enough to my age too. It’s a little easier talkin’ to you two ’bout things.”

“It’s not dumb at all. I felt the same way when I first joined. It was helpful that Marston was only a year older than me and I had William too. It’s comfortin’ knowin’ that you’re in the company of people who understand your point of view.”

“Good to know I’m not the only one who feels that way,” she replied happily. “I don’t know some of the gang very well, but y’all seem like good people for outlaws. Dutch and Hosea do a great job of keepin’ everyone in check.”

“They do their best, even with a group like us. None of the fellas here are givin’ you any hassle, are they? Not that I think you couldn’t handle them.”

“Naw, they’re fine, really. I thought Williamson might’a been the type, but he’s like a mouse when he’s sober.”

“_Really?”_ Maebh asked in disbelief then looked over at the man himself. “Well, that’s surprisin’. I always pegged him for the opposite.”

“I can spot _them_ right away,” Abigail explained. “Ain’t that hard when you’re used to this line of work. But they’re all fine men that don’t cause problems, which I always appreciate.”

“If by chance there _is_ any hassle, let me and William know, especially if it’s Marston. William is always lookin’ for any excuse to give him a dig.”

She laughed at that. “Alright, noted. Bar bein’ kinda eager and stupid, he ain’t causin’ me any problems.”

Maebh casted a fond glance at said outlaw as he won a hand of poker and let out a cheer. “He _is_ awfully eager and stupid, but he’s a good guy. He’s a serious flirt, Jaysus. Hopefully he calms down a bit as he gets older.”

“Oh, he flirts somethin’ fierce,” she laughed, placing a hand on her chest. “He thinks quite highly of himself.”

Maebh nodded in agreement. “He’s a good-lookin’ fella, I’ll give him that. That’s just John though… I think I’m used to his confident stride at this point, considerin’ I’ve known him since I joined four years ago.”

“And how long have you known Arthur?”

“Just as long. He was in the gang long before we joined.”

“And how long have you known you liked him?”

Maebh’s mind went blank, the beer bottle pressed lightly against her lips mid-swig. She gulped harshly and cleared her throat. “Sorry?”

“I ain’t blind, Maebh,” Miss Roberts challenged her. “Or _dumb_ neither.”

Making sure that no one else was listening in on their conversation, Maebh kept her voice low. “How could you tell?”

“The way you look at him. You two are close obviously, but that doesn’t necessarily mean somethin’ more than friendship is goin’ on. Maybe it’s ’cause I ain’t been here so long. The rest of you can’t see the wood for the trees.”

Well and truly figured out, the older woman let out a sigh. “You might have suspicions, Miss Roberts, and I might have some feelin’s, but there’s definitely nothin’ more than friendship goin’ on here.”

“First of all, call me Abigail,” she suggested lightheartedly. “Secondly, that doesn’t mean there can’t be. Have you ever talked to him ’bout it?”

“God, no. I’m pretty sure this whole thing is one-sided, so I wasn’t sure if it was worth the embarrassment.”

The dark-haired woman offered her a kind smile. “Well, ya won’t know until you try, right? But that all depends on whether you think he’s worth the risk. And before you ask — your secret is safe with me.”

Maebh contemplated Abigail’s words, allowing her eyes to glance over at the topic of discussion. He was still deep in conversation with Hosea, so he had no idea what thoughts were flying around in her head. She chose to not mention the fact he had a family of his own already, or an apparent fondness for an old flame he had not seen in many years. She figured that her friend had a point — she would have to decide whether her self doubts were stronger than the longing she felt in her chest.

Unfortunately for Maebh, it didn’t seem as though the odds were in her favour.

Despite her internal conflict, the night continued on around her. Everyone celebrated in a jovial fashion, one her struggles couldn’t dampen. William was once more called to his feet, passionately diving into his favourite Macbeth monologue. 

The night went on, as it was destined to do.

* * *

Time passed, but Maebh’s uncertainty did not.

It had been a week since William’s birthday and, for the gang, life seemed to return to normal. They had a steady flow of money coming in as everyone earned their keep, and people seemed to be slowly but surely coming to terms with Bessie’s death. Though they had somewhat expected it, Hosea continued to drink his sorrows away. He was difficult enough to order around when sober, but a mourning, drunk Hosea was even more difficult. The burden fell on Arthur, Dutch, and Susan most of the time, as they seemed to be the only ones who could encourage him to not have another drink. Bill appeared to get the brunt of his anger, ironically when he was lazing about camp with a beer in hand and not _‘pullin’ his damn weight’_.

Despite this and despite the mostly positive attitude of those around, Maebh still struggled with Abigail’s suggestion. Anytime she considered speaking to Arthur about her confusing feelings, she bottled it. She had to force herself to concentrate when they continued to plan the bank robbery with Bill and Uncle. It was odd, but she found herself both relieved and despondent when he went on one of his usual trips to visit his son a couple days ago. She wished him well before he left, blushing at the way he smiled and tipped his hat. Her eyes watched him until he and Boadicea had disappeared down the trail. In order to ease her mind before he left, she found herself spending more time with Karen, Annabelle, and Abigail. Perhaps that was why Marston had approached her with such an enthusiastic idea that evening.

“You busy?” he asked while she sat by the campfire, carving some split point bullets with her hunting knife.

She eyed him warily as he stood over her. “Not particularly. Why? You got a job?”

He shook his head. “Naw, but I was wonderin’ if you’d come into Fulton with me. You said I could buy you a whiskey after you got me my tobacco, remember?”

The thought of a free drink made her mouth water. She had spent the whole day hunting with William and Copper in the fields out east. They stocked up on whatever meat and herbs they could find before hauling it all back to camp in a wagon. While he headed back out to follow up on a lead with Mac and Davey, she remained at camp, tired but eager to sate her hankering for a whiskey.

“Sounds good,” she responded, sheathing her knife and putting the bullets in her satchel. “When did you wanna head out?”

He shrugged. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Once she made sure someone was free to keep an eye on Copper — that person being a surprisingly enthusiastic Bill — she and John mounted up and made the short journey to Fulton’s saloon. Though it was busy, they were lucky enough to grab a small table in the corner and, as promised, he grabbed their first round.

“So,” she began, noting the two shots of whiskey and two bottles of beer he set down on the table. “Is this goin’ t’be one of those nights where we keep it respectable, or where we pass out on our horses?”

John raised a brow as he took off his grey gambler hat. “Do you even need to ask?”

“You’re right,” she agreed and followed his lead by setting her own stalker hat down on the table. “Why did I even bother askin’?”

He raised his shot to her. “I think those horses are well used to our antics by now.”

She agreed and clinked her glass off his before downing the liquid, the familiar burn in her throat a welcome relief after a hard day’s work. “I don’t know whether we should be proud or ashamed of that.”

“It’s been a while since we done this,” he noted, leaning forward in his seat. “Must’a been before Christmas, I think. I was kinda worried that you might have forgotten about it.”

“There’s been a lot goin’ on. I think things at camp have been a bit on edge since Bessie… William’s birthday was the first time any of us really celebrated _anythin’_.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah. Things are still tough but there seems to be a new atmosphere ’round camp at least. It’s… part of life, I guess.”

“Life can be a right crock of shite, but we’re still here somehow.”

John chuckled at that. “_Somehow_ is right. We must be doin’ more right than wrong if we’re still here.”

“Yeah…” Maebh sat back in her seat, eyes wandering over to the man who was currently commandeering the saloon’s piano. “It’s sad though. If anythin’, I think Bessie was the one in the gang with her head screwed on properly, and she was cut short by an illness she got by chance. It makes you think.”

“’Bout what exactly?”

“About how unlucky life can be for some. It’s not like she died from a bullet.”

“She didn’t deserve it,” John agreed sadly. “She was still thinkin’ of others and how she could help even when she was dyin’.”

His words resonated in her mind. “The night she died… she said some pretty heavy stuff to William and I. She said that we should try to get out of this life before it kills us.”

“She said _that?”_ he asked, clearly a bit skeptical. 

“Look, I don’t want you goin’ and blabberin’ it all over camp, but she did. I wouldn’t lie about that. She said we’re still young and we need to start _thinkin’_. She included you in that as well.”

John shook his head and ran a hand through his short hair. “All we need to do is trust in Dutch and we’ll be fine. The world is changin’, but not for us. Are you tellin’ me you can picture yourself workin’ on a ranch someday? Or workin’ for the government? What’ve they ever done for us other than destroy our way of life?”

She considered his conflicting words, her mind aimlessly wandering back to the memory of what the government did to her father and mother. “Look, I’m just tellin’ ye what she said, okay?”

“So you ain’t plannin’ on runnin’ off?” 

She nearly choked on her drink. “Jesus, no I’m not, Marston! Would’ja relax? I never said I was goin’ anywhere.”

“Good,” he said, seemingly happy with her response. “Who would I make a drunken ass of myself with if you left?”

She shrugged with a pout. “Karen?”

He blinked for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, a fair substitute. How ’bout we move on from the sad conversation? I invited ya out here to get drunk and laugh, not cry.”

“Right, right,” she agreed, taking a hefty swig of her drink. “I’m sorry. How’s that job you got with the Callanders goin’?”

From there, the conversation drifted into more familiar territory. Maebh knew better than to bring up Bessie’s advice to John ever again. His displeasure for the idea of leaving the outlaw life wasn’t lost on her, and frankly, she wasn’t sure whether she liked the idea herself. Thankfully, more drinks meant the conversation loosened up and they were once again bouncing off each other like old times.

Three rounds later, Marston had descended into his usual wheezing laughter. “God, my damn gut hurts from laughin’. We shouldn’t leave this so long next time.”

“I dunno, Marston,” Maebh teased him, the familiar feeling of lightheadedness creeping up on her. “Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time with _Miss Roberts_…”

“What’re you _insinuatin’?”_ he asked with narrowed eyes.

“Other than the fact I’m shocked you had any money left over to pay for drinks? Nothin’.”

Oh, how she loved to mess with him. His reactions were priceless — he never knew whether to laugh or scoff at her remarks. Now that she thought about it, that’s how _she_ felt about _him_ too.

He waved her off with a drunken hand, slumping back into his seat. “Awh, you don’t know shiiiiit.”

“It’s a bleedin’ _joke,_ Marston. Since when are you so damn sensitive? I think I hit a nerve.”

“You didn’t hit shit, Hennigan.”

“I’m just tellin’ it like I see it. I haven’t seen you spendin’ time with any other workin’ ladies. She seems to be the only one.”

“It’s _convenient_,” he insisted. “She lives at camp! Why would I go into town for what I can get a few feet away? And I’m not the only one doin’ it neither! Why don’t you go give your brother grief for it?”

With a roll of her eyes, she leaned forward and nodded for him to come closer. Undeterred by her teasing, he obliged with a skeptical expression. She kept her voice low, despite the hint of a slur from the alcohol. “The difference between you and him is if I slagged him about it, he wouldn’t care. _You_, on the other hand, clearly do. You’re a bad liar and a hothead, Mr Marston.”

He eyed her carefully, pupils blown wide in the low light. “And you’re a goddamn thorn in my side, Miss Hennigan.”

“Stop askin’ me out for drinks then.”

When she winked at him, John lost it. He burst out into a laugh, his voice like sandpaper in his inebriated state. “You’ll be the death of me, woman.”

“Most likely, but at least we have fun together.” With a snicker, she got to her feet. “Look, how ’bout I get this next round and we have a chat ’bout your lady problems? That sound good?”

He immediately shook his head. “Nuh uh, it’s my round, darlin’.”

“You say that as though I care. Rum? Rum! I’m gettin’ us rum.”

She turned on her heel but was suddenly swung back around by a hand on her arm. She very nearly stumbled before John caught her around the waist with his free arm. He mumbled an apology before trying to stand up. “Lemme geddit.”

Considering she was the one who handled her drink better, she placed two firm hands on his shoulders and gently forced him back into his chair. “Down, boy. You sit, I’ll get them.”

She kept her hands there as she awaited a response, looking at him in amusement. He cast his brown eyes up and down her form, a smile slowly pulling at his lips. “You’re real _bossy_.”

“And you’re really thick for such a drunk dote,” she replied with a playful grin and ruffled his hair until some of it fell into his eyes. “Sit and shush.”

He released her slowly, letting his arms falls limply by his sides as she ventured off to fetch a new round. After charming her way through a few patrons at the bar, she set two glasses of rum down on their table.

“That was fast,” John noted, sniffing the dark liquid. “How’d you manage that?”

“It helps gettin’ drinks if you’ve got tits.”

He snorted at that, eyes briefly flitting to the neckline of her shirt. “Uh, right. How could I forget?”

She held her hands up, feigning earnestness. “Are you sure you’re goin’ t’be able t’hold a conversation now that you’re aware I have tits? Can you still concentrate?”

“Trust me,” he laughed. “I’ve already been _aware_ of that—” He wasn’t expecting the harsh slap she gave his arm. “_Ow!_ Christ, Maebh! It’s a _compliment!”_

“I know, I was just lookin’ for an excuse to hit you. Now—” She took a sip of her drink before pointing a finger at him. “—let’s chat ’bout how you obviously fancy Abigail.”

“Whadda’ya mean _obviously?”_

“Well, you’s spend a lot of time with her, whether it’s paid or not, and you get really pissy with William for availin’ of her services. Again, I’m just callin’ it as I see it.”

He grumbled at her words. “C’mon… You know I ain’t good at talkin’ ’bout these kinda things.”

“I’m _aware_,” she replied dryly. “But what’s the issue here? If you fancy her, just say so.”

Her words made him scoff before taking a large gulp of his own rum. “Oh sure, that’s _great_ advice.”

_Fuckin’ hell. Is this how Abigail felt when talkin’ to me?_

“What’s wrong with that?”

John let out a heavy sigh. “I can’t just _tell_ her that when I ain’t really sure how I feel ’bout her. I’m not… sure if she likes me more than a payin’ customer anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Maebh argued. “You’re a good guy.”

“I thought I was a dumbass?”

“Bein’ a dumbass doesn’t mean you’re not a good guy.”

That made him laugh. “Very funny. Even if she did maybe like me a bit more than just friends, I doubt it would work.”

“Why not?”

“If I say it, you’re gonna think I’m a bastard.”

“A bit dramatic, but alright. Gewon then, tell me.”

He set his hands down on the table, using them to emphasise his point as he spoke. “If she was to be with me, I would rather that it was _just_ me. But her job says different, right? She’s gotta make a livin’ by bein’ with other men, includin’ some fellers in the gang. If she was my woman, I wouldn’t really want her doin’ that no more. I don’t have an issue with workin’ girls, but damn, I wouldn’t wanna think that she’s had _Bill Williamson_ before she’s had me.”

Maebh looked at him skeptically. “You know she doesn’t lose her value just ’cause she has sex with fellas to earn money, right?”

“I know,” he insisted. “And I don’t think she does, but if she was mine, I’d want her to only be mine. Does that make sense?”

“I can understand that to some degree…”

“Anyway,” John grumbled, fingers flexing around his glass. “That don’t matter when I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want me that way.”

She frowned at the sight of him so down on himself. Yes, one of her favourite pastimes was slagging off John Marston, but they were still good friends. She had grown up with him to some degree and she never liked to see him genuinely sad over things such as his self worth. For such a cocky guy, he had his brief moments of vulnerability. To some degree, his biggest struggle was expressing his feelings with clarity. Despite his lack of tact or brief shows of stupidity, it was hard to _not_ be fond of him. In this circumstance, though she could understand his feelings, it didn’t make it any easier to see. Perhaps the two of them had more in common than she realised. The brief thought of confiding in him about Arthur crossed her mind before she pushed it away, drunken lips eager to let intimate details slip.

“Don’t sell yourself so short, John,” she said softly. “You’re worth more than you realise.”

He met her eyes and, for a moment, it seemed that their drunken haziness briefly dissipated. “Thanks, Maebh. I… That’s, uh… Thank you.”

The brief lull in inebriation didn’t last long.

The night progressed, as did the rounds, until Maebh’s legs felt like jelly and she could barely see straight. She and John laughed until they shed tears and drank until their stomachs said no more. The buzz of alcohol had them singing and bopping their heads in what was probably atrocious timing. Eventually, they called it a night. The cold air that was waiting for them when they stubbled out of the saloon hit her like a damn train.

“Awh _shit_,” she drawled, drunkenly scanning the street for their mounts. “Where’d the horses go?”

“Over there,” her friend slurred, pointing to the exact hitching post they had left them at hours before. “I think ya had too much to drink, darlin’.”

She scoffed and linked her arm around his. “Ah shurrup, yew ye tic.”

They walked to them unsteadily, the ground beneath them a lot less even than it had been at the start of the night. It didn’t get easier when they got to their horses either. As she released Marston’s arm, he immediately lost his footing and fell backwards into the dirt. She lost it laughing as he started to wheeze, arms splayed out on the ground. The only thing keeping her upright was the awkward grip she had on the hitching post. She was convinced they never would have made it on to their saddles had some kind patrons they recognised from the saloon helped them up. The horses, used to their drunk routine, turned and began to slowly walk back to camp, no further than an hour down the road at a languid pace. Somewhere along the way, Maebh slouched forward in her saddle and everything went black, the husky singing voice of her companion fading into the distance.

Sometime later, she awoke with a start. Blinking groggily, the familiar surroundings of her tent came into focus. It was still night, but somehow they had made it back and into their beds. William slept soundly on his own bedroll next to her. Someone must have carried her, she presumed, as she had no recollection of how she even got into bed. Sitting up, the urge to relieve the pressure on her bladder forced her out of the tent and back into the night. The camp was nearly silent, everyone presumably asleep. She got to her feet shakily, still somewhat drunk from their earlier escapades. Did Marston make it back too? What about the horses? On her way to the latrine in the trees, she cast an eye into John’s tent. The sight of him sleeping on his stomach and snoring softly gave her some ease, as did Dullahan and Applejack snoozing in the grass. She stumbled slowly into the trees, holding on to branches and tree trunks to keep her somewhat upright. She briefly noticed Mac smoking a cigarette while on guard duty at the other side of camp.

Once she relieved herself, she fastened her pants again and headed back down the trail to the warm comfort of her tent. She would have hurried had she not heard the thump of horse hooves on the ground. Squinting in the darkness, she looked down the path and saw a horse and rider slowly walking towards camp. Despite still being a bit drunk, she realised it was Arthur.

She breathed his name before she could help it.

He brought Boadicea to a halt and raised his head, the moonlight shimmering against his stained cheeks.

“Did you not go to visit your family?” Maebh inquired with confusion. “Why are you back so soon?”

Arthur hesitated, casting his eyes down at the ground again. “They weren’t… They ain’t…”

She was ashamed she asked at all. Seeing him like this… She doubted she would forget the sadness in his eyes. Why was _she_ the one who made him say it?

The weight and finality of his words disrupted the stillness of the night around them.

“They’re dead.”


	17. Look Like the Innocent Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Arthur and Maebh contemplate the feelings that haunt them, the gang's dynamic takes a dramatic shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy fellers! Hope everyone is staying safe and doing well. Two things of note for this chapter! Apparently, AO3 no longer count views from readers who don't have AO3 accounts. Considering most writers track their stories by views, this is a bit of a pain, as we see numbles dwindling. I just wanted to encourage those reading to leave any comments they'd like on this chapter as it'll help me to know that you's are still out there! Be it one word, or an essay of thoughts, they're all welcome and I'd love to read them :)
> 
> Secondly, the song mentioned at the end of this chapter is a piece I highly recommend you listen to. It's on the Spotify playlist of course, but I wanted to mention it specifically as I know not everyone listens to that. It's a poignant piece, particularly the version by The Gloaming which is the one I referenced. It also appears more than once in future chapters...
> 
> Sorry for the rambling but it's what I'm best at! Apologies for any mistakes as I'm half asleep at the mo... Hope you's enjoy another instalment.
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Just a Dream” — Jeremy Holland-Smith, “Longing” — Frida Johansson & Henrik Oja, “On the Motorway” — Jessica Curry, “Keep the Wolves Away” — Uncle Lucius, “The Sailor’s Bonnet” — The Gloaming

** _24th April, 1894, outside Fulton, South Dakota_ **

_This life, _ _my_ _life, it isn’t one destined for joy. That much has become apparent to me, though I have little more to say about it._

_First Mary, now Isaac and poor Eliza… How many chances will I be given?_

_If you live a bad life, you don’t deserve good things. I doomed them from the beginning. I guess the boy wouldn’t live a long life with me as his daddy. They both deserved so much more than being murdered over a measly ten dollars. Maybe it serves me right for the life I’ve lived, for the evil things society says I’ve done. Maybe this is my punishment; the good being lost to the bad._

_The more I think about it, the more guilt consumes me. Had I left earlier, had I gone for an extra trip, had I left the gang once Isaac was born so that I could be there to protect them like a father should…_

_It doesn’t even matter now. I fear the sight of those crosses will haunt me until my last breath. They’ve already consumed my nightmares._

* * *

While being back at camp was somewhat of a relief for Arthur, it had its downsides.

Most of the gang were tiptoeing around him, afraid to upset him or say the wrong thing, he guessed. Those who never even knew he had a son in the first place knew now. Dutch was the only one who seemed to approach him with certainty, offering supportive words that he did appreciate but had little response to. Hosea did what he could when he wasn’t cooped up in his own grief, but the two seemed to sit in their mutual despair together, bonding over their shared losses.

He did very few jobs, earning little money as a result, but for once, Susan never said a word to him. Instead, she gave out to the other men for not making up the difference. The one thing he still agreed to do was the bank in Watertown, which he hoped could serve as some sort of distraction in a couple of months. Other than that, when he wasn’t sitting in his tent, he got antsy and left to be alone for hours at a time. No one questioned his choices, but Dutch and Hosea asked the he didn’t spend more than a full day away, and that seemed fair enough to Arthur. He understood that they worried and he didn’t want to cause unnecessary anxiety.

He couldn’t recall the last time he felt grief like this. It must have been when his mother died, but he was so young then, and the pain seemed almost foreign. And his daddy, well… He was another story altogether. If anything, he probably deserved the end he got after the life he lived. Maybe he wasn’t all that different from his father after all.

He had left camp earlier that day, eager to get away and be on his own for a little while. It was evening time when he found himself perusing the bounty posters outside Mitchell’s police department. Boadicea remained hitched nearby, patiently waiting for him to pick a target and get moving. He hated to admit it, but he was looking for the meanest bastard available, preferably wanted dead or alive so he wouldn’t be missed once the beat the life out of them. He hoped they would have backup, maybe a whole gang of imbeciles he could massacre and not feel any shame or regret for being so ruthless. The thought was cathartic and he was very tempted. The idea made him feel just the tiniest bit guilty until he recalled what happened to his family.

“As William would say,” he muttered under his breath, eyes roaming over the posters. “_‘Sure look, fuck it’_.”

The thump of horse shoes cut through his thoughts as they clip-clopped down the cobbled streets. He turned just as a familiar brindle horse was brought to a halt and hitched to the post where his own mare was waiting. Atop the animal’s back was a struggling man, tightly hogtied with a bleeding nose.

“You dumb _bitch_,” he growled out as he wrestled with his restraints. “You’ll pay for this when I get out!”

“Sure ye will, Jeremiah,” replied a voice Arthur recognised immediately. Maebh hopped off her horse before hoisting her captured bounty from its back. “Just let me know ahead of time and I’ll have a cup of tea waitin’ for you.”

“Oh, fuck you, you stupid mick! I’ll make sure I don’t forget your face!”

“If it’s any help, my full name is Maebh McFuckyourself.”

Arthur couldn’t help but smirk slightly as she walked towards the station then paused once she saw him standing there. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey yourself,” he replied then gestured to the man she was carrying over her shoulders. “You, uh, wanna hand there?”

She shook her head. “I’m alright, thank you. Let me just throw this sack of shite into a cell and I’ll be right back.”

He watched in amusement as she hauled the man inside, purposely smacking his head off the door to open it. She appeared back moments later, counting her money.

“Who was that?” Arthur asked curiously.

“Some highwayman who has been robbin’ and killin’ people between here and Mount Vernon. Not a very pleasant character, but worth dealin' with for the twenty five dollars I made off it.”

“Good work. He seemed like a… _colourful_ feller.”

She met his gaze with a smile. “Oh, _definitely_. He spoke very highly of me the whole way here. What are you up to? Gettin’ a bounty yourself?”

“Naw,” he replied. “Just… window shoppin’.”

“Right. I’m, eh, goin’ t’head back to camp. Do you want’a come with me? Or are you still busy out here?”

He could hear the caution in her tone, the hesitance about whether she should invite him back at all. Though they hadn’t spoken, he knew that she worried about him regardless. Part of him wished that she wouldn’t waste energy on doing so, but he supposed it was a normal reaction. Regardless, he felt like he didn’t deserve the curtesy, but talking to her helped his mind to focus on other things rather than his own misfortune.

“Sure,” he answered with a small smile. “I’ll come with ya.”

She offered him a happy grin as she hopped back atop Dullahan. He pulled himself into his saddle and together they trotted back down the street towards camp. They rode in silence for most of the journey, the atmosphere uncharacteristically awkward between them. Sure, Arthur knew they certainly had their fair share of bashful interactions, but conversation usually came easy when he was with Maebh. It was only then that he realised they hadn’t really spoken since he returned that night to see her stumbling out of the latrine still half drunk. He hadn’t meant to put her on the spot by admitting what happened to his family, but he wasn’t exactly thinking straight.

Eventually, Maebh cleared her throat and threw out a question that mirrored his own thoughts. “We haven’t really seen much of each other lately, have we?”

“Not really,” he agreed with a frown. He looked at the younger woman, noting how she looked at the dirt road beneath her with uncertain trepidation. At that, he added a few more words. “Guess I’ve been out more than I realised.”

“I don’t mind it,” she said, then blinked a few times. A hand reached up to toy with the silver chain of her necklace. “I mean… I didn’t mean _that_. I meant to say that as long as you’re alright while you’re away from camp, then it’s okay.”

The tension in the air was thick and he dearly desired to ease some of it if he could. He pointed to the jewellery as her fingers rolled it back and forth. “You always fiddle with that necklace when you’re thinkin’.”

She half smiled. “I suppose I do.”

“Was it your mother’s?”

The look of surprise on her face was almost amusing to him. “How’d you figure that one out?”

“Well, you and William both have your parents’ pistols, but he’s also got your father’s pocket watch. I figured maybe you got somethin’ off your momma.”

He didn’t admit it aloud, but he made that assumption some time ago and kept it to himself, a little worried what her reaction might be to his observation and apparent fondness for studying her closely when no one was looking.

He was surprised when his observation seemed to put her at ease. “You’re a smart man, Mr. Morgan.”

“Now I wouldn’t go that far,” he joked, happy to feel some of the stress dissipate. “A little observant, maybe. I think I know you well enough by now, right?”

Maebh let the silence hang before she spoke again. This time, her voice appeared calmer and more even than before. “What I meant to say was that if bein’ away from camp helps you, then it’s alright to do it. You were there for me when I needed to talk to someone, so that goes both ways. If you ever want to chat, I’m here.”

Right now, he found it hard to believe that words could offer him any sort of comfort. That being said, he allowed himself to meet her gaze and offer a small but genuine smile and a word of thanks.

They quickly rounded the corner that would bring them down towards the lake beside camp. Though it was getting darker with the setting sun, Arthur was the first to spot the figure waiting in the middle of the dirt road. Against a nearby tree trunk, a horse was hitched beneath its branches.

“What the hell…?” he heard Maebh mutter under her breath.

They continued down the road and the figure remained unmoved from its spot, waiting for them to come closer. Once Arthur recognised the unsettling smile that greeted them, he pulled Boadicea to a halt a few metres away. 

“Not this sonuvabitch…”

Matthew remained fixed right in the middle of the road, looking between them in amusement. Rage built inside Arthur before he could even get a hold of it, and without another thought, he pulled his cattleman from his holster and aimed it at the man’s head.

Beside him, Maebh held up a nervous hand. “What the fuck? Wait a minute now—”

“Pardon the intrusion,” Matthew announced cheerily. “I don’t mean to interrupt this _lovers’ outing_…”

There was a brief silence in which Arthur threw his companion a swift glance as she sighed atop her horse. “Actually, fuck this.”

In a beat, she too had aimed a pistol at the intruder.

Matthew sighed. “You try this _every time_ and it never works out well for you.”

Arthur spoke with a growl, seething with how this goddamn bastard had the nerve to show his face _yet again_ and especially _now_. “You keep sayin’ it’d be a mistake to shoot you, but right now I don’t really see a _downside_.”

The Welshman hummed, brows piquing in amusement. “Shoot me now if you wish. I have no doubt you’re quicker on the draw than I am, but I’m expected elsewhere, and should I not arrive on time, Mr. O’Driscoll will be paying some visits. One less visit necessary now though, right, Mr. Morgan?”

Arthur’s blood was boiling. Seeing red, he fired a shot right between the bastard’s feet with a cloud of dirt and debris. Their horses danced lightly on their hooves. He kept his voice low and even despite the anger that threatened to consume him. “I do not have the patience for this today, so get the hell outta our way before I put a bullet in you.”

“If you believed you could get away with killing me, you would have done it by now,” Matthew noted calmly, unfazed by the close call. He strolled to his horse, their guns following him as he pulled himself into the saddle. As he continued on, he already began steering the animal down the road. “But I’m sure you don’t want to bury anymore loved ones this week, so let’s get going. Daylight’s burning.”

“Going where?” Maebh asked, visibly hesitant.

He simply called to them over his shoulder without a care in the world. “Back to your camp.”

* * *

John Marston was the first to see the trio as he stood guard amidst the trees. “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me!”

Matthew saluted him from his saddle. “Lovely to see you too. A pleasure as always.”

Without missing a beat, John turned and called for Dutch at the top of his straining lungs. The sight of Maebh and Arthur returning with Matthew in tow had those still in camp confused and worried with what might go down. Once John had sent for him, Dutch appeared with Hosea and quickly ordered Marston to keep the rest of the gang at bay on the other side of camp.

“And keep an eye on Pádraig,” Dutch added shortly. “Lest he shoot the poor bastard again.”

Arthur and Maebh quickly dismounted once Matthew hitched his horse on a nearby tree. Dutch gently placed a hand on the young woman’s shoulder and pointed to the horses. “Miss Maebh, if you would be so kind as to take those horses away. I need Arthur here with me for the moment.”

Asking no questions, she happily took their reins and guided both Dullahan and Boadicea to get some rest while Arthur watched her go.

Once the group had dwindled down to four, Dutch spoke to their visiter. “Mr. Matthew, can we dispense with the _pageantry_ this time and just get straight to the point of why you’re here? Instead of makin’ a spectacle why don’t we speak privately?”

Matthew huffed. “Tsk, _dull_. Very well, I am your guest after all.”

“Arthur, Hosea, you two come with me while I entertain our _guest_.”

“Ooh, now it’s a party!”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he followed them to Dutch’s tent. “Jesus Christ…”

Inside, Dutch offered Matthew a chair while he took a seat opposite him on his bed. Arthur and Hosea stood either side of their leader, guns holsters at their sides should anything happen.

Matthew sat down on the wooden chair before removing his hat and resting it on a nearby table. With a sigh, he crossed one leg over the other, lit a cigar, took a hearty puff, then declared. “I’ve come to propose a truce.”

Arthur stared at him suspiciously, sharing a look of concern with Hosea.

“A_ truce?”_ Dutch repeated skeptically. “Excuse my disbelief, but why _now_ are you comin’ into my camp and askin’ for a so-called truce?”

Matthew’s eyes flicked between Dutch and his cigar. “Honestly? I’m getting bored having to watch you lot. On my list of priorities you don’t rank very highly and I’m running out of creative ways to intrude on your camp. I think it’d save us _a lot_ of hassle if we could be safe in the knowledge that we’re on the same side.”

“And what side might that be?”

Matthew waved a dismissive hand. “The side of the free.”

Dutch let out a dry laugh, looking up at Hosea with a shake of his head. “I thought we didn’t meet your expectations of ‘living free’?”

“There are improvements to made, sure, but Mr. O’Driscoll has enough on his plate at the moment to continuously worry about your _incestuous_ little bunch—”

Already on an exceptionally short fuse that evening, Arthur stood up straight and pointed a threatening finger at the messenger. “You watch your goddamn mouth—!”

“_Arthur_,” Dutch quickly and firmly cut him off. He gave him a look that didn’t invite discussion. “Not now.” He then turned back to Matthew. “What exactly is in this truce for us?”

“Safety from us I suppose,” Matthew shrugged as if safety wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be. He took another drag before exhaling slowly. “Oh sure, we could send in men to get rid of you, and I’ve no doubt you’d stand your ground for a time, but how many are you at this point?” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees. “Fourteen? Fifteen? Sooner or later we’d win but we’d really rather not bother. This way you get to keep plying your _‘trade’_ without having to worry about overstepping your bounds, and I get to stop having to traipse around whatever shithole you move to next. How does that sound?” He finished his sentence with a grin.

Arthur was the first to speak. “I don’t know, Dutch. Can we really trust this fool and all them O’Driscolls?”

“He may have a poor choice of words,” Hosea said though Matthew was in earshot. “But we’re outnumbered here and ain’t no reason why people need to die needlessly. That’s not how we operate.”

Arthur grumbled and pointed a finger at their guest. “You think _he’s_ trustworthy?”

“_Charmed_,” Matthew drawled, turning his attention back to his cigar as though the topic was of little importance. “As always.”

“Not in the slightest,” Hosea admitted. “But he’s not the one in charge of that gang and they don’t want to bother with us. I say that this country is big enough for the both of us if we’re in it for the same damn reasons. We don’t want bloodshed and by the sounds of it, they ain’t interested in wastin’ time on us either.”

Dutch listened to them attentively. “Gentlemen, I understand the uncertainty and the mistrust, but I agree with Hosea. We ain’t interested in losin’ folks over somethin’ that could’a been entirely avoided.”

“_Dutch_,” Arthur began insistently. “We ain’t never even met this Colm O’Driscoll and his errand boy ain’t nothin’ to get excited over!”

“Son, I know your patience is wearin’ especially thin lately, but I ain’t willin’ to risk the lives of anyone in this camp, not even that sad sod he left for us to deal with. None of us are expendable for the sake of pride. Hosea is right — ain’t no reason why we can’t come to some sort of understandin’. We don’t need to like each other for that.” Dutch turned his attention back to the man sitting opposite him. “If we agree to this truce, Mr. Matthew, what exactly will it entail?”

Matthew peered at them from behind a thin plume of smoke. “So, here’s how this will work: any major capers or shenanigans your little gremlins are planning, you run it by us, and we will do the same. We keep a safe distance from each other's activities, and in doing this we ensure we don’t have a repeat of that nasty affair with the train. Who knows, perhaps we could pull off some heists together? This way we both get to continue our business, Pádraig stops getting shot, and anarchy reigns.”

Arthur hated it, he really did. He was by no means against what Dutch and Hosea were saying — no one in the camp was expendable. Even if that was how Colm O’Driscoll ran his gang, it wasn’t how they did things around here. Despite the logic, he couldn’t shake the feeling this Matthew feller gave him every time he appeared at camp to cause trouble. Here they were, making a deal with men who were ruthless and willing to murder innocent people if it meant getting the job done. They weren’t much better than them, but the taste it left in his mouth was especially bitter.

“You tell Colm O’Driscoll,” Dutch began, extending his hand out. “That he’s got himself a deal. I’ll acknowledge this apparent truce between the Van der Linde Gang and the O’Driscoll Boys.”

With a handshake, it was settled.

Arthur was told to go cool off while Dutch and Hosea made sure that Matthew was safely escorted away from camp. He was more than happy to storm away, not before throwing a threatening glare in the departing man’s direction. He stomped through camp, passing by the others as he headed towards the shoreline for a breather.

“Is he gone?” Pádraig asked as he fearfully crept out of his tent.

“Don’t ask me,” Arthur snapped and kept walking. “Go find a goddamn skirt to hide under, boy!”

Susan was quick to go into damage control. “You’re fine, Mr. Wilson, just go back to feedin’ them chickens! _Everyone_, back to work!”

Arthur ignored the looks he was getting, marching off and sitting on a boulder in the dirt. He huffed and sat slouched over himself, stare fixed on his boots. He ran a hand over his beard, longer than usual, and released a deep sigh. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and began to smoke it in long drags. He honest to God wondered how any man could possess the amount of anger he felt all too regularly now.

He heard tentative footsteps approaching and threw an unwelcoming glance over his shoulder only to see Maebh eying him as though he was a skittish coyote.

“Are you okay?” she asked, with such genuine concern that it almost vexed him further.

“No,” he grumbled, turning back to the water. “I _ain’t_.”

“Stupid question,” he heard her mutter under her breath. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to check on you—”

“Well I ain’t _fine_, okay?” he snapped, then instantly regretted it. He caught himself and avoided eye contact as he tried to calm down. “Look, I’m not really lookin’ to talk to anyone right now, alright? If you wanna know what happened, go ask Hosea or Dutch.”

Without another word, Maebh’s eyes hardened before she gave him an understanding nod and left him alone on the shoreline. He watched her go despite his insistence for solitude. A twinge of emptiness in his chest now accompanied his seething irritation.

As he watched the moonlight dance on the calm waters of the lake, he wondered whether these feelings would ever go away.

* * *

Maebh counted how many years she had known Arthur.

Four. Or more specifically, a single month shy of four years.

In all that time, she could confidently say that she had never seen him cry.

She grasped the fishing rod tighter in her hands, enjoying the calm morning sun, that hovered high in the sky as the days grew longer.

The month of May rolled around and with it, Maebh’s twentieth birthday. On the tenth of that month, she awoke at her own time, enjoying the lie-in the others offered considering what day it was. Despite the excuse to rest more than usual, she found herself awake at dawn regardless and unable to drift back into sleep. Her mind wandered to Arthur, as it usually did ever since he returned to camp a few weeks ago. It had become some sort of self-destructive routine at this point.

Most of the gang were up and about as she got dressed and rejoined the living a few hours later. They offered her several casual happy birthdays, Uncle already passing a beer into her hand as she sat at one of the tables and munched on bread and cheese for breakfast.

“Ain’t never too early when it’s a celebration!” he declared before grabbing another bottle for himself. “Coffee can wait.”

She politely accepted the drink before William appeared by her side with their fishing rods, asking that she accompany him to the lake. It had become a tradition for them to go fishing on the morning of her birthday, just the two of them. It was something their mother and father had them do as kids and William was unwilling to let the practice die. It was when they stood on a little hill further down from camp, sipping away on some beers as they caught fish that Maebh’s thoughts wandered yet again to the man who seemed to consume her thoughts.

The image of his tear stained cheeks was still etched in her vision as though it was yesterday. She wondered on some level whether she could understand his pain, but seeing him shift into a hardened and distant man only furthered her uncertainty. She hadn’t spoken to him much after that night, and even less after Matthew’s last appearance at camp. She had continued writing to keep her mind off things, focusing mainly on the story of Queen Medb and King Ailill. Good progress was made, but she had yet to brave showing her work to Arthur as he had previously requested. It was hardly on his list of priorities right now. Any time she thought of a decent conversation topic, she realised in actuality how insignificant it was. Not only that, but she felt selfish for missing his company when he was mourning such a severe and violent loss.

“I hear Hosea sent a letter off to those O’Driscolls,” William said from her side. “’Bout the bank job in Watertown next month?”

Pulled from her daydreaming, Maebh replied. “It’s our first major job since the truce, so I guess it’s all part of the procedure now.”

William kept his lure slowly moving on the water as he spoke. “That’s a bit of a pain in the arse.”

“That’s true, but I can understand why they took the deal. Those O’Driscolls work far differently than us sure, but they also outnumber us. There’s only so much we can do against that.”

“Oh, I’m not disagreein’ with that. I completely understand why Dutch took the deal. I heard him sayin’ to Hosea that maybe he can use the agreement to our advantage too. Somethin’ ’bout gettin’ to know Colm and usin’ whatever powerful connections he has for our own benefit.”

“You never know — maybe Dutch can teach this Colm fella a thing or two ’bout livin’ free the _right_ way.”

William chuckled a bit at that. “Tell that to Pádraig and he’ll call you mad.”

“Here, I can understand him bein’ terrified!” she admitted just as she felt a small nibble on the end of her line. “They nearly killed him over that train job and Matthew seems to love shootin’ him in general.”

Her brother seemed to have very little sympathy for the former O’Driscoll. “Yeah well, even with the truce, Pádraig should be just as afraid of _us_. Dutch has made it clear that he’ll have to work for his trust.”

“What’s he goin’ to do? Run back to Colm and get skinned alive? He’s nowhere else to go—” A sharp pull on her line had her reflexes kicking in, just about hooking the fish in time. She began to reel him in as he tired himself out.

“I’m just sayin’,” he continued on. “I don’t like him yet.”

“I’m sure he has _no_ idea…” she teased, tactically reeling in the fish she had hooked. After a brief battle, she was happy to see a pike on the end of her line and set him aside to give to Pearson later. They waited for William to catch another before returning to camp together.

As the sun set, their spirits rose. Though Maebh had not asked for some sort of grand gesture to be made, the gang organised a party of sorts, much like they had done for William in April. Hosea carried a crate of drinks to the table, urging everyone to grab a bottle and start celebrating. The others didn’t argue, already gathering around and wishing her the best. She was handed small but thoughtful tokens from her friends. Dutch and Annabelle handed her a bottle of Irish whiskey imported from her homeland, Hosea gifted her with one of those fancy, steal pens, something he said Bessie purchased alongside William’ bow, and John gave her a new satchel after the strap on her last one snapped. Inside he stowed a couple of chocolate bars, which she had to admit was highly appreciated. William gave her a copy of ‘_The Wanderings of Oisin and Other Poems’_ by W. B. Yeats, as well as a new oil lamp for nighttime reading. She expected little and was given far too much, but made sure to express her gratitude as best she could. 

As she left her gifts in her tent and William helped to gut the fish with Mr. Pearson, someone cleared their throat behind her. She spun around to see Arthur standing sheepishly outside her tent.

“Hi,” she greeted him with an uncontrollable joy that deeply embarrassed her.

“You havin’ a good birthday?” he asked politely, hands behind his back.

“Yeah,” she admitted. She glanced out at their gang mates who were already placing more open crates of alcohol on to the varies tables around camp. “I’m never one for massive parties on my behalf, but hopefully it’s a good night.”

“Here’s hopin’.” He paused then cleared his throat again. “I just, uh, wanted to give you these for your birthday.”

She protested the gesture almost immediately. “Oh, you didn’t have to, really.”

He shook his head slowly. “Naw, I kinda did. Happy birthday, Maebh.”

She watched him curiously before he revealed a brand new stalker hat in his hand, black and void of any wear or tear. He set it on her head gently and she couldn’t suppress the happy laugh as he did so.

“Your other one was gettin’ old,” he stated, giving her a once over. “So I thought that you might need of a new one before it fell apart.”

“I really do,” she agreed, securing the hat on her head and offering him an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Arthur. This is very thoughtful of you.”

“You’re real welcome. I also made you this.” He then pulled his other arm from behind his back and held out a photo frame for her to take. “It’s somethin’ small, but I thought you might like it.”

She stared at the frame apprehensively before she carefully took it in her hands. Her mouth fell open when she peered at the image under the glass. Inside was a beautiful drawing of Dullahan, trotting happily around a field with her head held high. She studied the sketch, analysing the numerous pencil lines placed with such care and thought that the animal truly came alive on the paper.

“She’s a good horse,” Arthur explained and scratched at the back of his neck. “And I figured you should have a photograph of her. A drawin’ seemed a little more personal.”

Maebh stammered, desperately searching for the right words to express her sincere gratitude. “Arthur, this is… really _beautiful_.”

“Sounds like you’ve already had too much to drink.” He laughed off her compliment and then stood for a moment in silence. He seemed to be studying her closely, a small smile pulling at his lips before it disappeared and he let out a sigh. The gentle hand he placed on her shoulder as he wished her a happy birthday again was a little less than she had been hoping for.

Before she could get a chance to say anything else, Hosea was calling him away to the other side of camp. She was left standing there with this precious drawing in her hands, allowing the man she couldn’t stop thinking about to leave before she became too brave or too emotional to openly admit forbidden things.

When the sun was setting, the celebrations began. Dutch opened with a speech, as he always did, and Maebh turned down the opportunity to make one of her own. A couple of drinks in, and she found herself sitting next to Abigail and Annabelle discussing things of a personal nature.

“I have a question about Bill,” Abigail said in a low voice, urging the other two women to lean in closer. When they obliged, she continued. “Does anyone think Bill might be… well, y’know… into men?”

Annabelle pouted. “You mean more than women?”

“Most definitely,” Maebh stated with confidence. “He’s never admitted it, but I kinda just assumed anyway.”

“I _knew_ it!” Abigail said, seemingly happy that she wasn’t alone in her analysis.

“Is he really?” Annabelle replied in surprise.

Maebh nodded and took a swig of her drink. “It’s somethin’ that we all know but don’t say to him ’cause he’d probably shoot you for statin’ the obvious.”

“But I thought he’s been with you, Miss Roberts?” Annabelle asked curiously.

“He has a couple of times, but not much. I’ve been with a few men who was lyin’ to themselves ’bout the same thing, so I know how to spot it.”

Annabelle contemplated her words and looked across camp at a drunk Bill with inquisitive eyes. “It actually makes sense, now that I think about it…”

As they chatted, there were numerous shouts for music from their friends. William, always happy to oblige, was already fetching his fiddle. As music began to play, Dutch pulled Annabelle up to dance, leaving Abigail and Maebh to their conversation.

“I’m not goin’ to judge him for however he copes,” Maebh explained further. “But I’m still a bit surprised that he availed of your services at all.”

“It’s only been a few times,” she emphasised. “Maybe he’s just lonely or in denial. He certainly won’t be talkin’ ’bout his feelin’s at this rate. It would be like tryin’ to get blood from a rock. At least I’m lucky to get most of my work outside of camp.”

Maebh was surprised by her admission. “Do you really? I thought it would’ve been the other way ’round.” 

That caused Abigail to laugh. “Oh Lord, no. If’n I’m bein’ honest, I’ve only slept with Bill, Davey, and John in camp.”

The older woman nodded towards her sibling as he entertained the dancers. “What about the cocky fiddler?”

“Oh, that was only once,” Abigail admitted. “He’s a good friend, that’s for sure, and I think he talks to me in my tent so much ’cause he knows it grates on John too.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right…”

“Honestly, my only regular ’round here _is_ John.”

“Oh?” Maebh tried to choose her words carefully, curious as to whether Marston had taken her drunken but valid advice. “Is he tryin’ to court you, or somethin’?”

That only made Abigail shake her head with an amused grin. “I doubt it. That man acts like a cat’s got his tongue most of the time.”

Maebh suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

_Marston, you absolute gobshite…_

“But other than him, Bill only asks on a rare occasion when he seems lonely, and Davey when he’s got spare money. Most of my pay comes from folks in different towns, but I don’t go out much anymore.”

“How come?” Maebh asked curiously, sensing that there might be more to this if Abigail’s thoughtful expression was anything to go by.

“I don’t know,” the younger woman replied, looking at the campfire that flickered in the moonlight. “I’ve been talkin’ to Dutch lately, and he says that there’s other ways I can make money if I wanna give this up. He said that Miss Grimshaw used to do it too, but he convinced her to quit when she started feelin’ unhappy.”

“He’s not wrong,” Maebh replied honestly. “You’re a good thief too, so you can always come run more jobs with us if you want’a leave prostitutin’ behind. You should do whatever makes you happy. If you want to continue, then continue, if you’d like to quit, then quit. No one here will judge you either way. Dutch and the rest of us, well, we just want you to be happy.”

As Abigail expressed a word of thanks, William finished his jig and the gang descended into applause. 

“Any requests from the birthday girl?” he called loudly, strutting up to the two women. Some of their friends followed, including Arthur who took a seat opposite Maebh across the fire.

She thought about it for a moment before clicking her fingers and pointing at her brother. The little bit of alcohol loosened her inhibitions and helped her to forget the thoughts that usually plagued her mind at night. She supposed that life was short, and this night was one to be enjoyed. _“‘The Sailor’s Bonnet’!”_

He appeared tempted by the suggestion. “I haven’t played that in _yonks_.”

“I ain’t never heard of it,” Abigail said curiously. “Is it an Irish song?”

“Our da wrote it,” Maebh explained. “It’s a lovely piece and one that he taught William when he was learnin’ to play. It’s my favourite.”

“Well if it’s the birthday girl’s favourite,” Dutch began with his arm wrapped affectionately around Annabelle’s waist. “Then you gotta play it, son!”

At that, Hosea joined them by the fire with a slight slur in his voice. “Did I hear somethin’ about some Irish fiddlin’?”

John and Karen took a seat by the fire too, drunk and eager for more music. At their insistence, William took his place and held up a hand to silence them. He gave Maebh a smile and announced. “For my sister on her big day — Happy birthday, Maebh. I hope this takes you back to those green fields.”

William steadied himself, placed the violin between his shoulder and chin, then opened with that familiar note she knew all too well. A hush descended over the small audience as he worked his way through the song’s opening, the peaceful arrangement transfixing her while the high notes stirred an emotional lift in her gut. Two minutes later, he upped the tempo, slowly rising into her favourite part of the reel. He tapped his foot, the gang already sensing the shift in tone to something more powerful and upbeat. His fingers moved off memory alone, already well acquainted with this tune and happy to be finally bringing it to life once more. Maebh softly clapped along and the others followed her lead with the subtle growth of the song. They were mesmerised, but her own attention was pulled elsewhere. Her eyes trailed over the fire, landing on Arthur. In four years, she had witnessed him cry only once. But right now, the small smile that formed on his lips while listening to the song was something that had become increasingly rare since the night she saw him shed tears. The music played, and her eyes remained on him, unable to look away until she felt herself smiling in genuine delight.

It was funny, she thought, how stringing musically notes together could create something so sublime and moving. She thought of her family and her home, and somehow, it seemed fitting to play this for those who had become their family when they needed it most. She realised how incredible it was that she could feel these poignant sensations just by seeing someone she cared about _smile_.

She supposed life was short, and though she wished she could allow herself to stop pining for this man in mourning, her heart wouldn’t quit.

Life was short, and laced with pain. And even still, while watching Arthur across the dancing flames and listening to music that reminded her of home, she felt joy with her sadness.

After losing so much, she felt lucky to have met him at all, even if he was destined to remain as just her friend.


	18. A Mutual Night of Regret and Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The planned bank robbery in Watertown begins and its fallout prompts some regretful choices for all involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update? So soon? Well, what can I say, I had a productive few days!  
This is your formal (very) NSFW warning, and that's all I'm gonna say about that...
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Bullet the Blue Sky” — U2, “The Yawning Grave” — Lord Huron, “Mt. Washington” — Local Natives, “Even If It’s a Lie” — Matt Maltese

_“Wine comes in at the mouth_

_And love comes in at the eye;_

_That’s all we shall know for truth_

_Before we grow old and die._

_I lift the glass to my mouth,_

_I look at you, and I sigh.”_

**―** **William Butler Yeats, ‘A Drinking Song’**

* * *

Today was the day — the Bank of Watertown would never know what hit it. If they did the job right anyway.

Arthur readied his saddle bag, making sure that he had everything he needed before he set off on the day’s journey with Bill, Uncle, and Maebh. The first week of June had arrived, and with it, the numerous inhabitants that flocked to the city in the summer months. They went over the plan with Dutch that morning — Hosea was otherwise occupied with a hangover and an impatient disposition — and he was happy for them to finally make a move. Arthur was admittedly a little nervous about the job. He still had yet to do much since Eliza and Isaac’s demise. At least he had confidence in his company.

_Well,_ he thought as he cast a glance at Uncle nearby._ Most of it anyways…_

Once he was happy that he had all supplies required for the job, he gave Boadicea an affectionate pat on the neck and offered her a peach. The mare gobbled the treat up as a pair of voices caught Arthur’s attention. Not too far away, Maebh was readying her own horse, but with Marston by her side. To him it was clear that they were both somewhat agitated with each other. John, ever a man not in control of his emotions, waved her off numerous times, hands on his hips and voice on edge. She held herself better, but spoke quickly, a telltale sign that Arthur recognised and associated with frustration and anger. Despite the fact Marston was clearly the reason for her annoyance, he didn’t walk away, seemingly insistent on having the last word. Noticing that they were both getting more irritated as time went on, Arthur approached them carefully. As he got closer, he heard snippets of their conversation.

“…why you’re bein’ so difficult ’bout this. Just talk to her—”

“I already told you why I ain’t doin’ that, Hennigan, so wouldja just _drop it?”_

“No, ’cause you’re bein’ an eejit—”

“I can be an eejit if I want to!”

“Just talk to her!”

Arthur chose that moment to cut in. “You good to go?”

The two appeared startled by his presence, Maebh looking at him as though she would rather stay and grill John over whatever it was he probably deserved. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Despite his exasperated state, Marston offered them a polite but hasty farewell. “You two look after each other up there, alright?”

He left before either of them could say anything, and Arthur gathered from her expression that she wasn’t interested in talking about it. He didn’t get a chance regardless, as Bill arrived and insisted that they needed to leave. Without any complaints, the group of four mounted up and set off north to rob a bank blind.

* * *

It was the following evening when they arrived at Watertown. They went over their plan again on the outskirts of town, ready for whatever the night might throw at them. Right now, they were discussing the ins and outs of stealing the keys off the drunken bank manager at the East Watertown Hotel. Being a woman and always happy to steal from a handsy drunk, Maebh was chosen to be the one to pickpocket the keys.

“Who’s comin’ with me to steal them?” she asked, eying the town as they steered their horses up towards Birch Street.

“This is your lead, Williamson,” Arthur said. “So you’re in charge.”

“You go with her, Morgan,” he replied. “Y’all make a better team for this sorta thing anyway. Me and Uncle will be waitin’ at the scoutin’ spot next to the bank.”

“And gettin’ some much needed shut eye,” Uncle added happily.

Maebh frowned at him. “You literally _just_ slept.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry ’bout them. Let’s go get those keys.”

The group split into two and Arthur was admittedly relieved that he was the one chosen to accompany Maebh to the hotel. He didn’t doubt her ability, but he sure as hell felt calmer knowing that he could keep an eye on her during the task at hand. They entered the hotel together, which was already bustling with the nighttime crowd. Leaving their dusters on their saddles, they looked more like visitors than thieves. They got some glances regardless, but most of the patrons appeared too drunk and merry to care.

Maebh leaned in close to him, keeping her voice low and passing the move off as casual affection rather than tactical discussion. “He’s over there, on the right hand side of the bar.”

With her helpful words, he spotted the bank manager leaning on the bar, downing a fresh shot before calling for another. As expected, he was already visibly a few drinks in. Knowing what they had to do, the two of them got to work. Maebh made sure to place herself next to the manager at the bar while Arthur pretended to enquire about the buy-inprice at the blackjack table. Then, he slowly walked by the bar to rejoin his companion. As he passed the manager, he gave him a firm nudge of the shoulder, easily sending him stumbling into Maebh. There was an awkward exchange wherein both her and the manager apologised profusely. She used her hands to steady him, quickly slipping his keys from his pocket in the process. He didn’t notice a thing, but then again, he seemed incapable of telling which was was up at that very moment.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he insisted with a slur. “As an apology, miss.”

Arthur stood on her other side as she replied. “Oh, there’s no need for that, mister.”

“I insist,” he replied, awkwardly waving the dollar bills in his hand and getting the barman’s attention. “Some gin for the lovely lady.”

Arthur gave her a sly look from beneath the brim of his gambler, letting her know that they needed to go now. Putting on a fake smile, Maebh placed a hand on the manager’s arm and told him. “Alright, hun. Just let me go freshen up first, yeah?”

“I’ll be here,” he assured her, already sipping on his own gin with a massive smile and unsteady gaze. “Don’t be long.”

Arthur and Maebh easily slipped through the crowd before they exited the hotel and emerged out in the cool summer night once more.She held up the key to him as they walked up to their hitched mares. “Got ’em.”

“Good work,” he noted with a grin. “Now let’s go find those two idiots and make sure they ain’t burned the place down.”

They slipped their dark coats back on and rode casually down towards Birch Street. Uncle and Bill were waiting around the corner next to their horses, the latter smoking a cigarette while the former sat against the wall and napped, as previously promised.

“You got the keys?” Bill asked as they joined them.

“Of course,” Maebh replied, tapping her pants pocket. “Did you two scout the place?”

“Yeah, it’s all empty. Not a soul inside.”

“Good.” Arthur gave Uncle a gentle shake on the shoulder. “Wakey wakey, old man.”

Uncle looked up at him without question and got to his feet. The four of them quickly snuck down the street, turning into a small alley that lead to the back of the bank.

“Cover your faces,” Arthur reminded them as he pulled his own bandana up over his mouth and nose. “Just in case.”

“The back door is just up here,” Bill assured them, leading the group along the building’s rear. “Remember, keep your voices down.”

“And work quickly,” Arthur added. “If you see anyone, Uncle, give the signal.”

“O’course. I know what I’m doin’, fellers.”

Maebh moved up the line as they reached the back entrance. Keys in hand, she swiftly got the lock open, backing off to let Bill enter first. The heavy door creaked slightly as it opened, causing them to cringe and hurry inside. Uncle waited as instructed in the doorway, keeping his head poking out incase any civilians happened to pass by and investigate. Bill lead them down the corridor having been the one to study the bank’s layout ahead of time. With Maebh in the middle, Arthur was the last in line. They worked their way through two more doors until they reached the vault. 

“Do them keys include ones for the lock boxes?” Bill asked.

Maebh studded the set she had and shook her head. “Nah, not by the looks of it. These are just for the buildin’ itself.”

“Goddammit,” Bill grumbled. “That’s gonna eat into our time.”

“Me and Maebh can crack them open, Williamson,” Arthur replied. “It’s why we’re here in the first place.”

He gazed at the five lock boxes as Bill took his place in the doorway and said. “Fine. You two crack ’em open while I keep watch. Just hurry up!”

“On it,” Maebh replied, heading to the last one in line. “You work from the start, Arthur, and we’ll meet in the middle, yeah?”

“Sure,” he agreed and got to work. “Let’s get this done as quickly as we can.”

He turned the first dial slowly, listening out for the tension as he neared the correct number. The method was repeated twice more before the lock released with hefty click. He got the first lock box open before Maebh got hers, shoving the money into his bag.

“Must be a couple thousand in here,” he noted as he moved on to the second one. “By the looks of things.”

Bill was pleased with his observation. “Good, just keep workin’ on ’em.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he got the first number on the dial, just as Maebh opened up her first safe. They worked swiftly, managing to get them all but the last one open relatively quickly given their experience on the manner.

“Ain’t you two done yet?” Bill asked in irritation, looking up and down the hallway.

“D’ye wanna come crack these yourself?” Maebh snapped. “Maybe you could smack your fat head off one and smash it open.”

Arthur couldn’t help but snigger under his mask while Bill stammered in anger. “Just shut up and get them open!”

“We _are!_ Jaysus, it takes time.”

“Nearly there,” Arthur reassured her as he moved on to the last safe. “I’ll handle this one, alright? Take a breather and go wait with Uncle.”

Without any argument, she gathered her bag over her shoulder and left the vault. Bill said nothing but remained visibly on edge as Arthur proceeded to crack the last lock box after a minute or so. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stuff the money into his bag. “We’re all done here.”

“Good,” Bill replied, nodding for him to take the lead. “You go first.”

Arthur happily lead them out, tossing the keys on to the manager’s desk as they went. They moved swiftly on their feet, despite the added weight of their successful take. Only when they reached the back door again did they hear a commotion outside. He stopped immediately, telling Bill to stay quiet under his breath, then snuck forward to peer through the doorway and spotted the manager — of all goddamn people — inebriated and aiming a revolver at Maebh and Uncle. Their companions were holding up their hands hesitantly, trying to keep the nose to a minimum.

Arthur barely registered his drunken babble — something about losing his keys and shooting those two to save his job. Once he saw the gun pointed at Maebh, he acted on vicious instinct. He dove out the door, grabbing the man’s weapon before he even spotted the other two thieves. He wrestled it relatively easily from his grasp and immediately pistol whipped him right in the face. His body went tumbling on his back, groaning in pain as blood poured from his nose. No bullets going off meant there was a lot less noise to draw attention, but they were compromised regardless.

“Get to the horses!” Arthur ordered the others, tossing Williamson his bag of cash. “And I’ll deal with this drunk bastard. Great job keepin’ look out, old man!”

“Don’t blame me,” Uncle protested. “Neither of us realised he had a gun!”

“Just leave him!” Bill insisted in an urgent but hushed voice. “We need to get outta here in case anyone else shows up!”

“Get to the goddamn horses, Williamson,” Arthur snarled, eyes trained solely on the manager. He heard Bill set off back down the alley as he grabbed the man by the collar. “Think you’re funny, do ya? Pointin’ a gun at a lady like that, huh?” He sent his fist flying into the mans face, relishing in the smack as his knuckles connected with his cheek. He did it again, anger building in his chest by the second. He started rambling as he beat him relentlessly. 

“Some man you are—”

_Punch._

“They had their goddamn hands up—”

_Punch._

“And you were still gonna shoot them, you piece of shit!”

_Punch. Punch. Punch._

Words escaped him as he laid into the manager, blood splattering on to his face as he beat him senseless, anger threatening to escape is throat in a scream. All he could see was red, the urge to tear this man apart consuming him whole. He thought of the crosses he saw in the field as he knocked out the manager’s teeth. He pictured the gun blasting a hole in Maebh’s chest as he broke his nose. He felt his own skin splitting, his breathing quickening with each swing of his arm.

Moving without thinking, he reached for his knife.

Suddenly, a tentative hand grasped his shoulder. 

He whipped around and met terrified green eyes staring back at him. Maebh released his shoulder once she had his attention, taking a few steps back as he slowly came back to earth. His laboured breathing slowed, but he couldn’t look away, not when she was staring at him like _that_.

“We need to go,” she stated with an unfamiliar hesitance he rarely saw. “Please, just leave him be.”

His eyes moved to the manager on the ground, his face caked his blood and already swelling lumps. He was breathing despite the vicious beating, eyes unfocused and body limp. With a sore and shaking hand, Arthur slipped the knife back into its sheath and walked back down towards the end of the alley. Maebh followed quickly, keeping a small space between them as they went. In seconds they were on their horses, Bill and Uncle already leading them out of the city as casually but quickly as possible.

On the outskirts, they came to a halt and Bill addressed the group with a sigh of relief. “No sign of the law. We made it. What the hell happened back there?”

“He came stumblin’ down the alley rantin’ about droppin’ his keys somewhere,” Uncle explained. “Must’a been comin’ to look for them, but then he saw us and pulled out a gun. Did we at least get all the money?”

“We sure as shit did,” Bill said, holding up one of the bags victoriously. “Everyone split up and head back to camp. Uncle, you stay with me. Arthur and Maebh, you two stick together and make sure no one follows you. Hopefully he didn’t raise any alarm.”

With that, the group split up again to make the journey home. Despite the day’s journey ahead, neither Maebh or Arthur said a lot. The air was thick with tension the entire way, even on breaks when the horses needed a rest, even when the sun rose to signal a new day. Arthur didn’t know what to say, and apparently neither did she. But what bothered him most was that new glint in her eye, the look of genuine trepidation when he got too close or said something too loudly. Guilt weighed him down as he thought of how he nearly killed that man — for all he knew, he could be dead. And she witnessed him doing that, like some no good bastard she didn’t know existed. At the time, he felt exceptional relief as he took out his frustration in such a destructive way, and now he felt ashamed. He caught her staring at his bloodied knuckles, but she didn’t mention anything about what happened in that alley, not for their entire journey home.

At camp, they were welcomed with cheers and congratulatory pats on the back from their friends. Even then it didn’t ease his mind because Maebh kept her distance. She didn’t mention the incident to anyone as far as he could tell, and neither Bill or Uncle witnessed enough of it to spill the details. Dutch said that celebrations were in due order, and a trip to Mitchell’s saloon was immediately planned for the following night. He didn’t argue, but retreated to his tent for the evening. His mind was a muddled clump of thoughts, eager to be picked apart and understood. Resorting to the most comforting method he had, he pulled his journal from his satchel and flicked through to the next free page. He grumbled at the sight of the final sheet already filled with a sketch of Bill, Uncle, and Maebh as they camped outside Watertown before he recalled the present gifted to him by his friend. Next to his photograph of Mary, he lifted the empty journal into his hands, recalling the smile on Maebh’s face as she gave it to him that day. It felt like so long ago, but he couldn’t help grinning at the memory. He flicked to the first page, only to see half of it covered with a note. He read it, then read it again, the weight in his chest easing ever so slightly.

_Arthur, _

_I hope this journal becomes something you can look back on in years to come and enables you to vividly relive the happy memories it contains. As a wise man once told me, “You just gotta make time if it makes you happy”, so you best make time._

_Maebh x_

***** * *

Celebrations were in due order, despite the fact Maebh had absolutely no interest in celebrating anything.

For the first time in a while, she genuinely detested company. She hadn’t felt right since the incident outside the bank, and felt even worse every time she met Arthur’s awkward gaze. He was suffering, she knew that, but it had been the first time she had witnessed such an outpouring of rage from him. Part of her realised that she might have witnessed him beat a man to death and the senseless violence of it all made her equally angry and despondent. She knew why he felt the way he did, but it didn’t stop her from worrying that he may never be able to escape that dark place in which he found himself. She hated to admit it, but his careless actions even made her quite resentful… She barely said a word to him since that day, not that she was frightened of him. She didn’t think she could ever be frightened of Arthur Morgan, but the part of her that felt so hopeless for his affection only grew after Watertown. 

Going into Mitchell with the rest of her gang didn’t lift her spirits either. She drank and drank, hoping to ease her woes with some comforting whiskey. Unable to help it, her eyes constantly trailed after Arthur, who seemed to grow more relaxed the more he drank. Eventually, he was laughing and joking with the others. She wished she could do the same. It was well into the night when she abandoned most of her gang mates to sit at the bar. Quite drunk, but having not yet descended into complete degradation with no hope of return, she allowed herself to sip on the whiskey she ordered. She was quite content with being alone until a raspy singing voice cut through her very depressing thoughts. She rolled her eyes as a body harshly dropped on to the stool next to her — the body the singing belonged to — and downed the end of her drink. She gave John a curious look.

He offered her a dopey grin in return, and continued on with his song. “_Oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’, oh my daaarlin’, Clementine…_”

“You’ve some voice, Mr. Marston,” she drawled, savouring the burn of whiskey on her tongue. “Some bloody voice.”

“Why thank you, _Miss_ _Hennigan_,” he replied, visibly chuffed at her words. “I do try.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Well, I’m gonna take it as one.”

He drew in a deep breath to start again, but Maebh was quick to place a finger on his lips. “Jaysus, can you not.”

He shoved her hand off with a laugh. “But I’m here to cheer you up, ya fool!”

“I don’t need no cheerin’ up.”

The look he gave her already sent a wave of aggravation coursing through her body. She quickly turned her attention back to the barman as he spoke. “That’s some croc of shit. You’ve been mopin’ ’round all night. What, you think I ain’t noticed?”

She chose to ignore his drunken accusations, and ordered herself another drink instead. “Whiskey, please.”

“A bottle!” John quickly cut in and threw five dollars on the table.

Maebh’s eyes went wide. “Hold on a sec now—”

John waved her off as the barman did as requested. “Shut up and let me buy you a drink.” 

“I think that’s a bit more than _one_ drink…”

It didn’t take long for two shot glasses to be placed in front of them, along with an opened bottle of bourbon. John, with every ounce of determination left in his body, unsteadily poured them out a measure each, during which she repeatedly pictured him spilling the bottle’s entire contents all over the saloon floor. She hesitated, thinking how she should probably not be having more to drink.

“C’mon,” he asked, his voice now containing a slightly serious edge. Perhaps he wasn’t yet hammered enough to not miss her reluctance. “Have a drink with me.”

_I really shouldn’t…_ She glanced at Arthur, who was completely engrossed in a game of blackjack with William, Dutch, and Miss Grimshaw. He seemed to be in fine spirits despite al that happened, but his smiling face only reinforced her own misery. 

Just as William caught her eye, she turned back to her companion. “Alright, Marston, but only ’cause you’re one persistent bastard.”

“I’ll take it!” he declared in delight. Giving her a wink, he clinked his glass against hers. Together, they downed their drinks. The lovely burn return to consume her throat, and she let out a heavy exhale. 

Before she could ask, he was pouring another. “That’s more like it, girl. There’s the smile I was lookin’ for.”

“Oh, you’re still on a mission to ‘cheer me up’?”

“O’course. I needed to come over here and wipe that frown off your face.”

His accusation swelled the oh-so common irritation that came with talking to a drunk (or sober) John Marston. “I’m not frownin’—”

“Hush up arguin’ with me. _Drink_.”

She did as he ordered, and he followed her with another. “I’m fine.”

“_No_,” he stated, just about pointing a finger at her. “You ain’t. And I’m tryin’ to help.”

“Shouldn’t you be worryin’ about yourself before tryin’ to solve all my problems?” she suggested, already feeling the effects of continued drinking. A distinct fuzziness was clouding her head as she tried focusing her attention on her friend.

He brushed off her comment, though she noticed the slight curl in the corner of his lips. “What you need to do is relax and have some fun. Stop… _thinkin’_ so damn much about whatever is botherin’ you. Focus on havin’ a good night with us.”

“I think that might be the only time you’ve ever given me rational advice.”

Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she took the bottle out of John’s wavering hand and poured them another round.

“Hey,” he spluttered. “That’s my job!”

“Nuh uh, mister. I guarantee you won’t even be able to stand once you get off that stool.”

“I can manage just fine.” 

The serious tone of his voice caught her attention. It had lowered significantly. That, and Maebh wasn’t expecting to turn and find him sitting so close to her. He was inches away, so close that she could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. She had never been this close to John before, and suddenly she couldn’t help but run her gaze over his face, stopping on his brown eyes that were staring at her intently. Suddenly the alcohol wasn’t the only thing making her woozy.

His arm dropped off the bar and suddenly his rough fingers were touching the bare skin on the side of her knee.

_Was that an accident? Surely that was an accident? He’s just drunk, don’t mind him._

Watching her as intently as any drunk man could, he slowly emptied her glass with his free hand.

“In fact,” he continued, moving forward so that his knee was slightly fixed between her legs. His fingers gently traced her skin with absolutely no coherence, but it gave her goosebumps. “How ’bout you let me show you just how well I can _manage?_ Considerin’ you’re in dire need of some fun and, well, uh, company. I mean, if you want it.”

Perhaps it was the alcohol. No, it _definitely_ had to be the alcohol. But, if she was honest with herself, Maebh knew that it wasn’t just because they were both kind of drunk. Though she felt uncomfortable saying it aloud — especially to _him_ of all people — she was, well… lonely. Pining after Arthur as he struggled with other women and his dire loss, and just understanding and recognising her feelings for him had left her disheartened and embarrassed. She couldn’t help but think about him when she lay in her tent at night. The only thing that usually stopped her from taking matters into her own hands was William’s nearby presence on the other side of the tent.

But here was John goddamn Marston, drunk off his arse and offering her a temporary comfort for which she was desperate.

She glanced once at Arthur, then made up her mind.

Without taking her eyes off him, she reached for his shot glass and downed the whiskey inside. Within her chest, her heart quickened under his intense gaze.

Here was an opportunity for her to get something she needed and wanted.

She sealed her fate with a single word. “Where?”

John honestly seemed like he couldn’t believe his luck, but his Dutch courage was doing him numerous favours for once. “There’s a room upstairs. Follow me.”

She threw her eyes cautiously over their friends. “What about—?” A roaring cheer from the table where their gambling was taking place cut her off. “… Right, well I guess their attention is elsewhere.”

“C’mon,” he urged, quickly grabbing both the whiskey bottle and her hand. He lead them out of the main hall and towards a set of stairs around the back. Maebh didn’t fight him, not that she even wanted to. 

Each step made her decision appear all the more real and serious. If she didn’t want this, she could simply pull her hand back and turn around. He wouldn’t fight her — she knew that — he’d never force her into a situation such as this. But the real question was whether she _wanted_ to turn around. Or if she’d rather spend a night with John and try to forget about the man downstairs who unknowingly held her heart.

John released her hand to pull a key from his trouser pocket. He was hurriedly unlocking the door and pulling her inside without a moment to waste. She didn’t inspect the room, didn’t let her eyes wander from their firm fixation on her friend before her. Theresounding click of the lock was the nail in the coffin for them. 

When he turned to face her, they stared at each other for a beat. She remembered all the times he had casually flirted with her, never really thinking much of it. There wasn’t much to consider — they were friends, and they never implied they could be more. She was used to his ability to give women his best bedroom eyes in a jesting manner. The look in his eyes now, however, had her stomach twisting with anticipation. 

He set the bottle down on a nearby table without looking away from her. Eyes steady, he removed his gun belt with surprising swiftness given the amount of alcohol he’d had. Holding his gaze, she followed suit, tossing her own belt on a chair along with his. Then, he reached her in two sure strides and kissed her hard.

The first time John’s lips connected with hers in a searing kiss left her dumbstruck. The weird ‘I’m kissing my friend’ thought vanished as his hands grabbed her waist tightly, fingers splayed out across her back. He kissed her as though she held the answers to all his problems, even though the act alone would likely push them further away from the ones they really wanted. She responded in kind, enjoying the sensation of someone holding her like she was worth the trouble. She had to give him credit; the man could kiss like something else.

John broke the kiss, let his forehead rest against hers, and asked. “You sure ’bout this?”

“Uh huh,” she replied with a nod and leaned up to capture his lips again. Instead, he forced her backwards until she pressed against the wall. His mouth met her neck, sucking and biting eagerly at the sensitive skin. She didn’t have the heart to tell him to avoid leaving marks. She held on to his biceps as they tensed under his shirt with a buck of his hips. A hiss escaped her as the distinct hardness in his trousers pressed against her. In a rush she was awkwardly undoing his shirt buttons.

“You done this before?” he murmured, one hand reaching under her skirt to grasp at the back of her thigh.

As he hoisted her leg up on his hip, she felt her cheeks go red. “Of course I bloody have.”

“I’m just _checkin’_.”

“While I appreciate that, _shit_—” She stifled a moan as he slotted himself between her legs and moved his hips languidly. “—_Jesus_. Uh, while I appreciate that, I’ve already agreed to this.”

The hand he had on her thigh moved up to grasp at her undergarments. “Just makin’ sure, darlin’.”

She placed a hand on his arm, halting his movements with a squeeze. “You _do_ have’ta work for it though, y’know.”

He peered at her with hooded eyes, a small smile playing at his already swollen lips. “Oh, is that right?”

“You’re always on about how you know how to please a woman, so show me you’re not all talk.”

Without another word, John was on his knees, slipping her pants down her legs and forcing her into a wider stance. He gathered up her skirt, hiking the clumped material up into her hand so that he could focus on the task ahead of him. He didn’t hesitate in using his mouth on her. The immediate contact made her gasp and shiver. Her head, already heavy from the whiskey, lolled back to rest against the wall. He worked furiously, unrelenting as he alternated between licking and sucking. As quickly as John had disappeared from her sight, he vanished from her mind too. He was replaced with a vivid image or Arthur, an action that she knew would grow guilty with sobriety at a later point. She wasn’t sure which man she felt more sorry for…

But now, she was far too gone to feel bad about her fantasies. Her free hand grasped blindly for his hair as a breathless moan came from between her parted lips. She briefly thanked her luck that John had continued to keep his hair short, further encouraging the image of Arthur between her legs. She could feel his rough hands grasping tightly at her thighs and ass, sure to leave bruises for days. The thoughts only furthered her arousal as she chased the ever-growing fire pooling in her lower abdomen. He lapped eagerly, sensing her impending orgasm and delving his tongue inside her with determination. When two long fingers took its place and his tongue focused solely on her clit, she lost it. Her knees buckled unsteady as she came hard on his fingers, clenching tightly on the digits as a heaving groan tore from her already burning throat. The noise very nearly formed Arthur’s name, the prevention of which was challenging as the pleasure overtook her. She damn near pulled his hair from its roots while the rippling shockwaves consumed her body and slowly faded. A weight lifted from her shoulders as she got her breath back. Air filled her lungs in the most delicious way as her lover gave her a moment to breathe. God, had she needed that. She wasn’t sure whether he was good or she was just desperate.

All too quickly, she lazily opened her eyes to find John standing in front of her again, noticeably more aroused and lips streaked with her release. His mouth latched on to her exposed collarbones as a hand slipped under her blouse. The roughness of his thumb grazing her nipple brought her back from foggy bliss. His tented jeans rubbed against her, little shivers rising up her spine yet again.

“You’re not thinkin’ about me, are you?” Maebh challenged in her drunken stupor. She eyed John — or rather _tried_ to — as he pulled back from assaulting her neck.

“That’s rich comin’ from you, missy,” he replied, his hips slowing at the accusation. “I see how you look at him, y’know.”

Before she could even try to open her mouth and form a response, he immediately grasped both her thighs and pulled her up so that he could slip between her legs. Propped against the wall, she gasped and wound her legs around his slim waist. Her skirts raised unashamedly higher as he captured her lips in another frenzied and sloppy kiss. The bitter taste of her own release on his tongue invaded her mouth, furthering the needy haze that took over her brain. Desperate hands fumbled with his suspenders and the buttons of his trousers before forcing them down just enough to free his hardened length.

When he broke the kiss to unbutton her blouse, she finally spoke. “Look at who?”

“Arthur,” he grumbled breathily. “He’s why you’ve been mopin’ ’round all night. I ain’t blind.”

His admission left her speechless and a little ashamed. She grabbed his cock, drawing a sharp hiss from his mouth as she eased him towards her entrance. “Shut up.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted from John, but that mattered very little once he slid his entire length inside her. The noise that left her would have made a more sober Maebh feel ashamed. He moaned next to her ear as he pressed his body flush against hers, voice sounding as though he had eaten the glass along with drinking the whiskey. A relieved sigh left her as his hips began to move, thrusting and building speed quickly. Soon, they were snapping hard against her, both bodies trembling with each forceful slap. Hazy images of Arthur crossed her drunken mind yet again but never came to vivid fruition. She tried to imagine it was him filling her and making her feel so good as he grunted into her ear. But John was by all accounts vocal, sounding like a man starved for days as he pounded into her, making it a strenuous task to picture the man she really wanted. His movements were rough as he leaned down to suck on her exposed breasts. He fucked her hard, in the exact way she had desired. She could hardly be mad at him when he was making her feel like _this_. There was no time for teasing. It was rushed and desperate and needy, and _God_ did she really _need this_, finally feeling as though someone was this hungry to claim her for himself. She knew he was thinking of someone else, but Jesus, wasn’t she doing exactly that as well?

His hands grasped at her ass, pulling her back with each sharp thrust. He put his whole body into it, the muscles in his back tensing under her splayed out hands. Still, it wasn’t _enough_. One hand lowered to harshly grab hold of his rear, cheeks clenching beneath her touch as a strangled expletive escaped his wet lips. He reached up to claim her lips again, huffing each time he was fully engulfed in her warmth. As he reached up to fondle her breast, she let her released leg slide to the ground, propped up on her toes to change the angle. She cried out once he hit a sensitive spot inside her, his mouth swallowing her eager moans as he slipped his tongue between her lips. Her hands clutched at any part of him she could find, pulling open his shirt and fingers digging into the hard muscle on his lithe chest. 

“’M gonna come soon,” he growled against her lips, eyes shut tight in visible delight. “Good God, _shit_…”

Rather unceremoniously, she replied. “You have’ta pull out.”

“_Jesus_,” John grunted, squeezing her breast with a rough hand. “I will.”

“You better, Marston.”

He pulled away from her lips to look at her with a frown. “I will! And wouldja ever start callin’ me _John?_ Not even _now?”_

“Ruinin’ the illusion, am I?” She rolled her eyes and clenched her muscles around him as a signal to keep going. “I don’t fancy gettin’ pregnant.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, teeth clenched and hips resuming their movements. “You don’t want a baby?”

“Definitely not right _now_, and definitely not with _you_.”

He chuckled. “You know exactly what to say to get to a man’s heart, Maebh.”

“I know how to get into his pants, apparently.”

“Whatever you say,” he muttered, and claimed her lips once more.

They chased their peak together, John’s whole body rutting up into her. They pulled each others hair, bit at skin and lips, cried out with abandon.

“I’d love to bury myself inside you, y’know,” he grunted harshly, his rough voice breaking through her clouded mind as her release began to build. A hand reached up to cup her cheek. “Good and proper. Feel you come all over me, fill you up…”

“Oh _God_…”

That was her tipping point. She was coming hard, head pressed into the crook of his neck as she whimpered and trembled. His shoulders tensed while she jerked uncontrollably. Murmuring more exclamations under her breath, she was suddenly clenching on air as he wretched himself from her grasping muscles and released all over her stomach and between her legs. He cried out as he came, breath fanning over her exposed shoulder. At some point he rasped out her name while she sobbed against his neck, still consumed with the shattering feeling that left her weak and breathless.

As they slowly relaxed, the outside world continued on around them. Maebh could distantly hear the music and rabble in the saloon below them, their friends clueless about what was occurring upstairs. Outside on the streets of Mitchell, patrons chatted loudly as the emptied their bladders or cared for friends who had presumably drank too much.

She was brought back to reality as John lowered her to stand on her own wobbly legs. When he didn’t release his hold on her, Maebh forced him gently back. They stood a few inches apart, focusing her eyes on the floor while feeling him watching her.

“Sorry,” he said after a moment. Confused, she looked up to see him vaguely gesturing to the mess on her abdomen as he pulled up his trousers. “’Bout uh, _that_.”

She waved off his awkward concern and ran her eyes around the room for something to clean herself up with. “Better on me than in me. You cut it close though.”

He cleared his throat and reached into his pocket, pulling out a cloth. He went to wipe her himself, visibly hesitated, then offered her the fabric. Once she was cleaned off, they got dressed, trying to straighten themselves out as best they could. John took an unsteady seat on the untouched bed with the whiskey bottle in-hand, sipping at it while she focused on buttoning up her jostled blouse.

“You wanna sit with me for a lil bit?” he asked. “I, uh, need a minute before I go back down. Kinda worn out.”

_Not particularly, but you’ve got whiskey and I don’t think I can stomach Arthur lookin’ at me right now._

“Alrigh’.”

They sat in an uneasy silence for some time, aimlessly passing the bottle between them as the post-coital bliss wore off. John looked as though he was trying to think of something to say the odd time, but Maebh wasn’t particularly arsed for a chat at that moment. His noiseless company would do fine. Eventually, he gave up trying with a huff and instead lit a cigarette. Much like the drink, he passed it to her after he took a few long drags. Eventually it burned out, and with it John’s patience.

“We should probably head back now,” he said, unsteadily getting to his feet. “Before someone notices we’re gone. You comin’?”

She shook her head. “I’m gonna stay here for a bit. I’ll follow you down.”

He hesitated uncomfortably, scratching his chin. “You, uh, sure?”

She reassured him with a nod and that seemed to be enough. He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and left her alone to her thoughts. She tried to ignore the strained muscles in her legs and the slight ache between her legs, lost in messy thoughts that offered no solace for her poor choices. Eventually, the silence became too much and she hurried down the stairs.

As luck would have it, William was walking by as she rounded the corner and bumped right into him.

He took one look at her before his jaw dropped and he exclaimed. “Oh my god, _you rode Marston!”_

“_What?” _she spluttered, eyes wide._ “_How the hell did you know that?”

“You came back into the room covered in _secondhand grease_ — how could I _not_ know?”

“Oh my God—”

“What were you thinkin’?”

“Well evidently I was _not!”_

Immediately registering her mood, her brother released a sigh. “Do you want’a go back to camp? I’ll go with you.”

Feeling very small at that moment, Maebh nodded her head meekly and allowed her brother to lead her back into the main room of the saloon. He spoke for her, saying that he was bringing her home considering she’d had too much to drink. Their friends argued until they realised there was no changing their minds. She refused to look in John’s direction as they wished them a safe journey back, but the wistful glance towards Arthur that she allowed herself only furthered her feelings of regret after its momentary comfort. He offered her a small but sad smile, one that seemed to suggest he wished she would stay.

As she walked out into the night air with her brother by her side, Maebh wished she could be anywhere but there.

Her sore head would not be her only regret come morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big oof


	19. Do You Bite Your Thumb at Us, Sir?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maebh and William discuss the fallout of her one night stand, and the latter is sent to investigate a ruckus in a nearby town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howiyas, thank you kindly as always for sticking around to continue suffering with me. Hopefully the goings on in the last chapter didn't put anyone off reading ha Just trust me, okay! I love a bit of angst and sad sex. Also thank you to those who left kudos and comments recently. Much appreciated! This chapter includes an interesting perspective change for you's to (hopefully) enjoy. On with the trash!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Cows on the Hill” — Jay Ungar & Molly Mason, “Light That Match” — Down Like Silver, “Dear Fellow Traveller” — Sea Wolf, “Muddy Waters” — LP

** _10th June, 1894, outside Fulton, South Dakota_ **

_It’s been two days since the night in Mitchell, and I have yet to actually write this down. Perhaps I’m ashamed of my actions? Maybe embarrassed too? And confused. Hell, all of the above._

_So, I slept with John. I know — who would have thought? Briefly satisfying until post-sex dread washed over me. I can only assume that the horrendous hangover I woke up with the following day was an apt punishment. Long story short, he asked and I said yes and then thought of Arthur for most of it. I don’t feel too awful about that considering I’m nearly positive that Marston’s mind was picturing Abigail instead of me. All I know is we’re a right pair of twats. And now, things are _ _painfully__ awkward. We can barely look at each other and yet he keeps trying to force conversation when we’re in close proximity. Whatever comfortable chemistry we once had has descended into stolen glances and the realisation of ‘oh, you’ve been inside me, that’s weird’. I’ve never wanted a week-long trip away from camp so much in my life…_

_And Arthur, well, I hope he never finds out about this. Thankfully no one bar William seems to be aware of it, so hopefully it stays that way. Even still, I thought I had enough reasons to feel uncomfortable around Arthur, but now I’m stuck constantly thinking about how I slept with one of my best friends because I wanted a distraction from pining after him. I wish I could blame it on his carry on in Watertown, but even that’s a bloody stretch. I’ve no one to blame but myself. We haven’t spoken and I can’t tell whether that’s a relief or rather a nuisance._

* * *

**THE MITCHELL CAPITAL.**

MITCHELL, SOUTH DAKOTA, SUNDAY, JUNE 10, 1894

BANK ROBBERS LEAVE MANAGER BEATEN AND BLOODIED

"The manager of the Bank of Watertown is recovering following a brutal attack on Wednesday night. The bank, located on Birch Street in the nearby city of Watertown, had its vault wiped clean by thieves on June 6th, who entered the building with a pair of presumably stolen keys. The manager, Mr. Josiah Hill (41), returned to the premises after realising his keys were missing only to be set on by attackers. He was found by a neighbour who heard the commotion before being brought to the local doctor’s office where he is being treated for a number of broken bones and lacerations to the face. He is lucky to have survived at all, but will most likely be in recovery for a lengthy period with life-long scars and injuries. 

"Heavily intoxicated on the night in question, he was unable to give a description of the robbers. Police currently have no leads but have kept the investigation open. Luckily, there were no other victims in the altercation.

"A representative for the Bank of Watertown has said that Mr. Hill has been removed from his post."

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted Maebh’s reading. She looked over her newspaper to see John Marston himself standing in front of her with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Uh, hi.”

She responded in kind. “Hi.”

He lightly danced on his feet for a few seconds, then gestured to one of the steaming cups. “Got you some coffee.”

Their conversation was _already_ painful and she wished she could simply reject the offer without seeming like an arse. Closing the newspaper, she resigned herself to the interaction. She slid over slightly on the log as he moved to take a seat next to her. Once sat down, he passed her the cup and she made a conscious effort to not touch his fingers as she took it.

“Thanks,” she offered lowly, clasping the cup in both hands and staring down into the dark liquid.

“Sure thing.”

They sat in silence, the ambience of the bustling camp filling the air. Maebh stared straight ahead, sipping on the coffee and ignoring how it scalded her tongue.

_If my mouth is full of coffee,_ she pondered. _Then I can’t talk to him. Tactical drinkin’!_

Beside her, Marston shuffled in his seat and tried to get comfortable. He coughed and spoke after a moment. “So, uh… is the coffee okay?”

“Um hmm,” she affirmed. “It’s grand.”

“Good,” he replied. “That’s… good.”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah…”

“Thanks.”

“For the—?”

“The coffee. Thanks for the coffee—”

“Oh, right.”

“Right.”

Another silence.

_Jaysus Christ, kill me now._

“Anyway—”

“You up to anythin’ today?” he blurted out suddenly, almost too loudly.

Maebh sat for a beat, then looked at him suspiciously. He met her eyes briefly then looked between her and his coffee. “… What?”

“Any…” He stammered, searching for the right words before finishing. “Plans?”

“Maybe?” she replied with absolutely zero confidence. “I mean… sure. I’ll probably do somethin’ with William.”

“Oh, right… I might do somethin’ too. I was, uh, wonderin’ if… Well…”

She couldn’t take this, not even slightly. Rather unceremoniously, she got to her feet and pointed at her tent. “I’m, eh, goin’ t’see if he’s around actually.”

John seemed a little surprised then got to his feet. “Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah, so—”

“Enjoy the coffee—”

“Thanks, I’ll—”

“See you ’round—”

“Eh…”

“— camp, I mean. See you ’round camp.”

“Alright, well… talk t’ye.”

“Bye.”

John took his seat again as Maebh hurried off to her tent, muttering a number of expletives under her breath as she went. William sat inside reading one of his books as she plopped down heavily on her bedroll, releasing a loud sigh.

“I can’t take this,” she said in Irish, grabbing her brother’s attention. “This is so bloody _painful_.”

William shut his book and raised a brow in her direction. “Havin’ fun with your new _lover?”_

She visibly cringed at the thought. “If you ever refer to Marston as my lover again, I’ll see to it that all of your books get chucked in the campfire.”

“Pfft, you don’t have it in you to burn books.”

“You would’ve said that I didn’t have it in me to fuck Marston, and yet here we are.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that.” He sat up next to her, openly studying John who still sat by the fire. “How was he anyway?”

She blinked. “_Sorry?”_

He nodded to their friend and repeated himself. “How was he? Back in the saloon? You never actually told me ’bout that part and if you’re goin’ to risk all that grease when havin’ sex then it better be _good_ sex.”

She briefly thought back to what she could remember of that night and then cringed. “It was… good, I think.”

“You _think?”_

“Look, I was piss drunk, sad, and in dire need of a shag, so I think I would’ve taken _anythin’_ at the time.” She looked over at John while he went about his business, noting that he actually looked quite handsome in the early morning light. It was unusual to look at him in a more judgmental manner now, noting that he was at least easy on the eye. “Maybe if I stare at him long enough while he looks this good, I can justify my terrible life choices.”

William laughed at that. “In the right lightin’ you can’t even see the grease…”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Here, it would be out of the ordinary if I _didn’t_ slag you for ridin’ Marston.”

“True, but you can’t tell me that he’s bad lookin’. You’re not _blind_.”

With a roll of his eyes, he replied. “Maybe he’s not a _complete_ gowl.”

“An attractive gowl accordin’ to the general population.”

“Oh wow,” he groaned. “I can’t believe you’re attracted to _Marston_, of all people. Why did it have to be _Marston?”_

“I’m far too deep into frettin’ over Arthur to be attracted to someone else right now. And besides, he’s still doin’ the same thing with Abigail. We’re two idiots who process these emotions terribly apparently.”

“Just do me a favour and next time you’re feelin’ angsty ’bout the love of your life, don’t handle it by lettin’ that racoon between your legs. You deserve better than _that_.”

“In my defence,” she began matter-of-factly. “He has big hands.”

William sighed, unimpressed. “Are you tryin’ to justify your choice to me or yourself?”

“Look, I can’t really justify it at all,” she admitted, running her finger along the rim of the cup in her hand. “I can’t say it was a good decision ’cause bar feelin’ good for ’bout ten minutes, it’s only caused me problems. The two of us can barely look at each other and yet he keeps tryin’ to make conversation with me that falls flat. I know we used to get on great but I can’t stand it. I can stomach bein’ ’round him as long as I can keep my mind off what we did together. He’s grand if he just _doesn’t talk_, which he _insists_ on doin’!” Getting more and more frustrated as she spoke, Maebh felt like tearing out her own hair. “I can’t believe I would do somethin’ this _stupid!”_

“Hey, relax.” She felt his gentle hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles. “I know it’s weird with him right now but you two will get back to normal eventually. Just give yourselves a bit of time. Trust me, you’ll both stop carin’ ’bout it after some time passes. It’s normal to feel awkward after ridin’ your mate. Just don’t get yourself so worked up, alright? It’ll be okay, trust me.”

Casting a hesitance look in her brother’s direction, Maebh asked. “How can you be so sure of that?”

“’Cause you’ve known him for years and the awkwardness will eventually go away. It just takes a bit of time. He’s probably tryin’ to force conversation ’cause he’s worried just like you are.”

All she could do was sit with her shoulders slumped and hope that what he said was true. She had never been in such a messy situation. Not only was she trying to figure out how to keep her friendship with Arthur in tact, but now Marston too. She had no idea that one night of sex could cause her _this_ many problems.

“Have you talked to Arthur at all?” William asked after a moment. She had told him all about Watertown when she was trying to justify her decision to sleep with John. He wasn’t exactly impressed with any of the details…

She shook her head. “I haven’t said much to him since the bank, if I’m honest. The manager is still alive, by the way.” She nodded to the discarded newspaper next to them. “Which is positive, I suppose.”

“Does he know that he survived?”

“I wouldn’t have a notion. I haven’t spoken to him, remember?”

“Well maybe you should,” he proposed. “If I know Arthur — and I’d like to think that a kinda do — he’s most likely feelin’ pretty awful about what went on in Watertown. You’ve a right to be mad about what he did, but we know he’s not exactly in the best place right now. If he was protectin’ you, I can’t say I blame him all that much.”

Before Maebh could argue, Annabelle appeared in front of their tent. “William? Dutch is askin’ for you. Somethin’ about that job you two have organised in Montrose.”

He thanked her as he got to his feet, then offered his sister a reassuring smile before going to see what Dutch needed to talk to him about. Left alone with her thoughts, Maebh glanced at the newspaper to her right. Trying to steady herself a bit and mulling over William’s words, she grabbed it and made her way towards Arthur’s tent. It wasn’t located very far from hers and it was thankfully nowhere near the campfire at which John still resided. Arthur sat on his cot, carefully sharpening his hunting knife on a stone while Copper lay near his feet and chewed on one of Pearson’s leftover bones. The dog noticed her first, wagging his tail even as he munched on his treat. Once Arthur realised who his pet was so happy to see, he too greeted her with a small smile. “Mornin’, Miss Hennigan.”

“You too, Mr. Morgan,” she replied and bent down to scratch Copper’s ear. “And you, boy.”

“What can I do ya for?”

She carefully tossed the newspaper next to him on his cot. “I was readin’ ’bout our robbery in Watertown. I thought you’d want to know that the manager is still alive.”

Her admission seemed to surprise him. He set his knife and stone down to read the short article for himself. She tried not to stare as he did so, focusing her attention on Copper, but failing to not take sneaky looks at his expression while he studied the print.

When he finished, Arthur pressed his lips tightly together. “Poor bastard was lucky someone found him so soon.”

“He was,” she agreed then noticed the older man’s expression. “You alright?”

He huffed out a bitter laugh. “I couldn’t tell you if I am.”

Sensing the turmoil threatening to spill out, she sat down on the ground next to Copper. “Do you want’a talk about it?”

There was a silence, one that was surprisingly comfortable given their current internal struggles. Somehow his reluctance didn’t bother her, it only stirred the urge within her to help his plight. He gestured with his hands as he failed to find the right words. After another moment, he spoke. “I wanted to say… Well, I wanted to apologise for what you saw back in Watertown; for what I did to that man. I felt like… like I had finally lost my mind.”

Maebh frowned, unsure of her own words. “What you did, well, it wasn’t very smart or necessary.”

“Maybe that’s just how I am,” he suggested morosely. “You’ve a right to be angry after seein’ that. I guess I’m just a no-good, crazy criminal like my father.”

“You’re a good man, Arthur, when you not actin’ all ‘crazy’ like you said. What you did was foolish, but you don’t need me to tell you that.”

A pensive smile graced his features for the briefest of moments. “If you think I’m a good man, then I worry _you_ might be a bit foolish.”

“At least I have equally foolish company.”

He laughed at that, not so sourly as he had done before, but like the little chuckles that Hosea could get out of him with a slightly insulting but funny jab. It was a sound she heard rarely these days and one she loved to hear at any chance she could. Fighting that part of herself that always seemed to doubt, she reached out and placed her hand on top of his.

“I know you think otherwise,” she explained. “But I mean what I said.”

His eyes flitted between hers and the ground beneath them. He nodded, refusing to say anything at first, before she felt his hand turn over so that hers was shifted into his palm. His fingers ever so lightly and cautiously, curled around hers. It was the softest of touches and only lasted what must have been seconds but felt like hours. She hated how her heart thumped in her chest, how shivers ran up her spine, and butterflies made themselves known in her stomach.

“Thank you, Maebh,” he murmured. “I feel lucky to have such foolish company.”

Oh, how very foolish she had been recently. She had resigned herself to the hopelessness of him feeling the same way about her. It was a baseless thought, one she was working on banishing. That rational part of her mind put off his tiny gesture as meaning nothing, but there was still that little part of her that so desperately hoped that perhaps he felt the very same butterflies.

_Perhaps,_ she thought to herself. _A girl can dream…_

* * *

William left his sister alone in their shared tent while he went to meet with Dutch. He hoped that she would be brave enough to share the good news of the manager’s survival with Arthur. Perhaps his encouragement would be enough. It usually was, but at the end of the day, the choice was entirely up to her. Annabelle pointed Dutch out where he stood on the shoreline of the lake, hands on his hips and gazing out at the calm waters with a quiet confidence he usually exuded.

“You were lookin’ for me, Dutch?” William asked as he joined him.

“William, my boy,” Dutch greeted him with enthusiasm. He turned to look at him before gesturing to the lake. “Some view, ain’t it? Really nice in this mornin’ light, I think.”

“It’s a good spot,” William concurred coming to stand beside him. “We’re lucky to have found it.”

“How’re you and your sister? Settled in alright?”

He nodded. “We’re happy out here. You’ve no complaints from us.”

Dutch appeared content with his statement and pulled two cigars out from his vest pocket. He used a match to light one for himself before offering him the other. “That’s what I like to hear, son. Very good. Now, I wanted to talk to you about that lil trip we had planned over to Montrose… I know that you and I were meant to go there together to distribute some of the bank take to the poorer community, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to go with you anymore.”

William hid the disappointment he felt, opting instead to keep a straight face and smoke the cigar. “Did somethin’ happen?”

“Well, it’s Hosea actually.” Dutch took a long puff as he frowned. “He’s in pretty deep with his drinkin’. It’s rare I don’t see him with a bottle in his hand these days. He was in a bad way last night and it’s carried over to today as well. I feel like my place is here right now. I’d rather keep a close eye on him and help him sober up.”

William didn’t argue. “I understand. Say no more.”

His mentor gave him a clap on the shoulder before walking back towards his tent and nodding for him to follow. “I knew you would understand. But I won’t be sendin’ you out there alone. I’d rather at least two of you go out together. John! You busy?”

William felt his whole body tense as Marston was called over. He nearly dropped the damn cigar in the dirt. Of all fucking people to spend time with, he hated to spend it with _him_. Especially after hearing the dirty details of his tryst with his _sister_ no less. The young man came quickly, visibly curious. When he noticed William already standing there, he purposely avoided looking at him before asking. “Not right now. What you need?”

“I got a job for you and Mr. Hennigan to run together,” Dutch elaborated. “In a town east of here called Montrose.”

Immediately, the two men began to contest the decision. Marston was the first to protest. “Uh, I ain’t sure if I’m the best one to go with _him_.”

“You’d be right ’bout that, Johnny,” William agreed calmly. “I’d do better bringin’ bleedin’ Copper with me.”

The insult caused John to clench his teeth. “Y’know what? Gimme the damn job on my own. I ain’t got no problem doin’ it as long as _he_ ain’t there with me.”

“In that case, we’d probably be better off sendin’ Williamson on his own.”

“Shut your mouth, Hennigan!”

“Good Lord,” Dutch groaned loudly, slumping into the chair in his tent. “Could you two manage to restrain yourselves from killin’ each other for a couple days? I ain’t askin’ for _that_ much. Look, I know you two ain’t very fond of each other, but we’re a family regardless and we work together. Arthur ain’t fit for work, and neither is Hosea while he drowns his sorrows in whiskey. You two are the best men I’ve got right now. I can’t send Williamson because he’s too damn hotheaded, and Mac and Davey would probably start a massacre in the local saloon if they went. I’ve known you two far longer and I trust you to get the job done. If it means sendin’ a grumpy Fenian and an unruly gunslinger, then so be it. If I didn’t think you were capable of settin’ aside your differences for one job, I wouldn’t’ve asked.”

Though William hated the very thought of being in Marston’s company right now, he understood that they were Dutch’s best option right now. He silently agreed with a single nod while Marston let out a huff and a gruff ‘fine’.

“That’s what I like to see,” Dutch noted. “Now, what you two are doin’ is distributin’ some of the take from Watertown to a poor community residin’ on the eastern side of town. As well as that, you’ll also be investigatin’ some nasty folks they’ve been havin’ trouble with of late.”

“Nasty folks?” William repeated curiously.

“Some sort of gang by the sounds of things. They’re not particularly _kind_ to the people livin’ there. The O’Driscolls sent me a letter informin’ us of this bunch’a criminals. I figured that you two could do some investigatin’ while handin’ out the money and then return with whatever you can find. We can look into handlin’ them then if necessary.”

John looked once more at his companion before saying. “Consider it done.” 

With that, they were sent on their way. The ride out east would take them a few hours, so William offered his sister a quick goodbye as he spotted her leaving Arthur’s tent. He didn’t ask questions, placed a swift kiss on her forehead, grabbed his things, and lead  Dantès  out of camp, John trailing behind atop Applejack. He made sure to really enjoy the end of his cigar.

* * *

Neither William nor John said anything the entire way to Montrose, so the former was quite relieved once they arrived at the town. By then it was mid afternoon and a thin sheen of sweat formed on his forehead from the heat of their journey. They hitched their horses on the poorer side of town, the street lined with a rundown saloon and a number of slum houses. They split the money between them and approached the locals who sat outside their homes, minding children as they played or cleaning their clothes in basins of water. William, being far more refined in public speaking than Marston, took the lead as they gave out cash to the slightly suspicious locals. He spoke of the government and its continuous plight brought on those less fortunate. He repeated the words he had heard Dutch speak on many occasions until eventually the locals warmed up to these generous newcomers. They expressed genuine thanks and offered them what little food they had in return while the men politely turned them down. Instead, they asked after the apparent troublemakers that had been around recently. They were kindly pointed in the direction of the saloon; the owner of which had apparently had a run in with them recently enough. 

The inside of the establishment was no nicer than the street from which they came. It contained merely a handful of patrons at this time in the day, most of which gathered around the poker table. Regardless of its condition, the barman offered them a friendly welcome.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you two ’round here before,” he noted kindly as he cleaned some glasses. “What can I do ya for?”

“A beer,” William requested and leaned against the bar. “If you don’t mind, mister.”

“_Two_ beers,” John cut in, giving him a disgruntled look as they both placed their pay on the bar. “Please.”

“Comin’ right up.”

Two bottles of beer were set on the counter for them and William was relieved to find that they were reasonably cool and refreshing as he took his first swig.

“Where are you fellas from?” the barman asked. “We don’t often get travellers here, so hope you don’t mind me bein’ nosey.”

“Out west,” John replied, unwillingly to give him the exact location of their camp for obvious reasons. “But we came by ’cause we heard you lot were havin’ trouble with some gang.”

The barman raised his brow but still held a smile. “Are you two bounty hunters?”

“Somethin’ like that,” William replied. “Could you tell us anythin’ about ’em?”

“There ain’t much to tell other than they’re a nasty bunch of bastards,” he replied with a frown. “They call themselves the Foreman Brothers and come in here sometimes to usually cause fights. They first swung by a few weeks ago and started claimin’ taxes for ‘protectin’ the locals’, or so they say. The sherif won’t do much about it because they stick to the poorer side of town. They really just came in here to take what little people already have. They cause far more trouble than they actually prevent, if you ask me.”

William gave John a look before adding. “I don’t suppose you know who’s in charge of them?”

“I can’t say for sure. There’s been two guys I’ve seen come in and outta here who seem like the ones in charge, but I never got any names.”

William usually made good assessments of people upon meeting them. He was always skeptical at first and chose to make an informed decision on their intensions after some conversation. The barman checked out and it seemed clear that he didn’t have any connection to these Foreman Brothers. He seemed genuinely fed up with their carry on, and that was enough for William to confirm his innocence.

“Don’t worry about it,” John said and took a large gulp of his drink to finish it off. “We appreciate the help.”

“My pleasure, gentlemen.”

William followed John out of the saloon, leaving whatever remained of his drink behind.

“We should probably head back,” the dark-haired man suggested. “We got everythin’ done.”

“You sure you don’t want to ask ’round a bit more.” William replied evenly. “Or are you dyin’ to get away from me? Not that I can blame you right now.”

John flinched at his words. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ’bout.”

“Well, you _are_ thick as shit.” William turned to the hitching post where they left their horses, but stopped dead when he realised they were nowhere to be seen. “Where the hell are the horses?”

“We left ’em right there—”

Beside him, John’s sentence was cut short with a grunt. William whipped around to see a man knocking his companion out cold with a firm whack over the head with a pistol. Marston had only just slumped to the dirt as William acted on instinct. He grabbed his sawn-off shotgun and didn’t hesitate in blowing the assailant away. What few passersby there were merely gasped at the altercation while the lifeless attacker fell heavily to the ground. Not seconds later did William feel arms lock around his neck and pull him into a chokehold. Another man knocked the gun out of his hand as he struggled with the arm putting sever pressure on his windpipe. He fought like a wild animal, nails clawing at skin and feet kicking backwards, but whoever had him was bigger and stronger. He panicked, heart beating rapidly as he thought of his sister.

It wasn’t long before his eyes slipped closed and the world fell into darkness.

* * *

The rhythmic drip, drip, drip of water eased William back into conscious. 

His head felt heavy and his hands sore. He was delirious and confused while his eyes slowly took in his surroundings. Eventually the room in which he resided came into focus. It looked dirty and dilapidated. Empty bottles and discarded rubbish littered the floors and a nearby table top. A torn pair of curtains barely covered the single window the room contained. It was already dark outside and the lone oil lamp in the corner was his only source of light. Despite the darkness, he spotted a couple of dried blood splatters on the walls. It took him a long moment to realise that he was sat upright on a chair and wasn’t alone.

Behind him, a familiar but grating voice was whispering. “Are you awake, Hennigan? C’mon, wake the hell up!”

“Jaysus,” William groaned and shifted his body. Feeling immediately restrained, he looked down to find himself tied to a wooden chair with his hands secured tightly behind his back and his feet bound together at the ankles. Only then did he realise that he was also tied to _John goddamn Marston_ behind him. His gun belt, satchel, and weapons were nowhere to be seen. A sense of dread washed over him, chest tightening as the severity of the situation became all the more evident. “What the hell…?”

“What happened back there?” John asked, sounding distressed as he struggled with his ropes.

“Some fuckers jumped us outside the saloon. They clapped you over the head and knocked you out before they got me too.”

“Well, shit,” John grumbled and furiously shifted in the chair. “No wonder my head hurts so damn much.”

“A pistol to the skull will do that.”

Suddenly, the door to the room swung open and in strolled two men. They were chuckling calmly, despite the prisoners right in front of them. William took a good look at them while they shared a joke. They both had thick, black hair and dark skin, as well as trimmed beards and hardened features. They were dressed relatively well despite the state of the room, but not overly fancy to draw attention to themselves. The shorter of the two carried a double-barrelled shotgun in his hands, smoking a cigarette between his lips. They bared similar features, so it was safe to assume that they could possibly be related in some regard.

“They’re finally awake,” the taller man noted, pointing between William and John. “This is them?”

The other man nodded. “Picked ’em up myself with Hurley and Benjamin outside the saloon.”

The taller man — clearly the leader — stroked his chin thoughtfully while he met William’s eyes. “We heard you boys were lookin’ to cause some trouble for us. My cousin here, Malcolm—” he gestured to the other man as he crouched down on the floor. “—heard you askin’ some very interestin’ questions ’round the saloon, he did.”

His cousin agreed. “That I did.”

“Heard you might’a been lookin’ for us.”

William looked him up and down while John spoke up behind him. “You one of those Foreman Brothers?”

“You could say that I’m the founder of them, considerin’ it’s my family that started it all. I’m Anthony Foreman, although I’m sure you already knew that.”

William shrugged despite the ropes burning into the skin of his wrists. “I can’t say that I did.”

“That’s cute, ya little mick.” Suddenly, Anthony pulled a knife from its sheath and pointed it threateningly in William’s face. “How ’bout you lie to me again and I give you another scar to match the pretty one you already got?”

“What do you want?” John demanded while William simply kept his mouth shut, staring down these men while steadying his breathing.

“To know who sent you,” Anthony replied. “You’re clearly bounty hunters, so someone must’a given you a price for our heads.”

“We ain’t dumb, mister,” Malcolm added. “We’ve dealt with our fair share of you in this here room.”

“Law enforcement from Watertown sent us,” William said calmly, remaining as stoical as possible. “They heard you were causin’ problems for locals down here and paid us to investigate.”

“How do I know you ain’t lyin’ to me, boy?” Anthony demanded in a low voice, easing the knife closer to his neck.

“Why would I lie? If I lie, then you kill us. It’s not like we have any other bleedin’ option.”

The cousins looked at each other, mulling over his words before Anthony sheathed his knife and stood up straight. “I wonder how much we could get for you two. Maybe we’ll send a couple of your fingers up to Watertown and ask for pay in exchange for your lives.”

“Maybe we can send up one of his ears too,” Malcom suggested, pointing at John who was visibly fuming. “They’ll listen to us real good then.”

The two shared a laugh at the ill-timed pun before stating that they should talk it over with the rest of the boys.

“You two stay cosy in here,” Anthony said as they headed out the door. “While we discuss what to do with ya. Don’t expect a meal in the meantime.”

With a hearty laugh, they were gone, the door slammed shut and locked behind them.

“Christ,” John growled, pulling on his restraints. “What do we do?”

William rolled his eyes. “Find a way out preferably.”

“I know that,” John retorted, patience long gone already. “Goddammit, Hennigan. We need to get outta here!”

His response was equally callous. “I don’t know what you want me to tell ye, Marston. Bein’ stuck in here with you isn’t exactly ideal for me either.” He took a deep breath then slumped back in his seat and scowled. If William was going to suffer tied up with his least favourite person, then he was sure as hell going to make John Marston as uncomfortable as physically possible. “You smell just like Maebh.”

John went ridged behind him. “_What?_ I uhhh—”

“I can’t believe she would willingly ride someone as fuck-ugly as you. Did you smack her head off the wall, by any chance?”

“But I — I didn’t…” John’s voice went a few octaves higher. “That’s not what we— I mean, what _I_—”

“The only explanation I can think of is that she must’ve mistaken you for Arthur.”

“We ain’t talkin’ ’bout this,” he suddenly barked. “So shut your damn mouth.”

“Here, when do I get a go?” William asked after a moment of silence, completely ignoring his request. He could practically hear John growling behind him. “You’ll have to get me fuckin’ wasted beforehand, just so ye know. Also I’m goin’ t’be in charge so bend over that table over there, will ye?”

“Can’t you see I’m ignorin’ you? We gotta find a way outta these ropes.”

“Did you have to do that the other night as well or…?”

“Hennigan, I swear to God—”

“I’m not gonna lie, right — I know Maebh better than anyone, and I can only assume that she had you proper hogtied considerin’ how awkward you are at the sight of a pair of tits so—”

“Jesus Christ, can you _shut up!”_

“Tell me, Marston — and be honest — were you thinkin’ ’bout me at all?”

“_Hennigan_—” 

“Did it perhaps feel like you were ridin’ me at any point? I know we look the same so the thought must’ve crossed your mind. I’ve been told that I’m just Maebh with a beard, so I don’t blame you if you get a hard on considerin’ how close we are right now.”

“I ain't even gonna answer that.”

“Oh!” William began again, feigning excitement. “Who do you think has a better arse, me or Maebh? And more importantly, will we find out who’s a better kisser? I’m sure you’re _dyin’_ to know. Right, pucker up. I love a challenge, even if I can do better.”

“I ain’t kissin’ you, you dolt,” John argued, trying to lean away from him despite being tied up. “What’s your problem?”

“What’s my problem?” William repeated, completely changing his tone to sound unsettlingly serious. Despite how controlled he appeared, he genuinely never wanted to strangle this man so much in all the time he had known him. “What’s my _problem?_ I’m gonna be honest, Marston, if I ever see you even lookin’ at my sister — y’know what, not even _lookin’_ — if I so much as catch wind of you _thinkin’_ ’bout her while you have a very sad wank, I’ll make sure that the only hole you get is one in your _fat head._”

“Goddammit, could you just shut up for Christ sakes?” John replied. “I get that you hate me and I’ll stay away from Maebh if you just help me figure out a way outta this. Otherwise we’re dead men or someone is losin’ their fingers!”

“They can take _your_ fingers for all I care,” William scoffed. “Then you won’t be able to put them in my sister.”

“Well what the hell we gonna do? We ain’t got no weapons, no horses, no one knows where we are! I’m sure as hell outta ideas!”

Just as he was about to tell Marston that he would gladly cut his fingers off for them, the lock on the door rattled violently before opening and closing again. In came a young woman looking slightly frazzled, who couldn’t have been much younger than William. Both him and John paused in the middle of their bickering to assess the newcomer. From what he could see, there was a fresh and bleeding cut on her right cheek and the neckline of her blouse was roughly torn. Even her hair was unkept as if it had been roughly pulled about. Her brown eyes held in them an anger that made him momentarily nervous for what was to come as he noticed the bloodied knife in her hand. That was until he realised that she held their gun belts and satchels in her other hand.

Both he and John greeted her at the same time. “Hi.”

“I believe these belong to you two?” she said hastily, holding the belts as she approached them.

“What the hell is goin’ on?” John asked.

She placed herself between the chairs and suddenly William felt the pressure on his wrists ease as she cut through the ropes. He was quick to pull the rest of the restraints from his ankles. 

As he threw a cautious glance at the girl and unsteadily grabbed his belongings, she finally answered John’s question. “All you need to know is that I just killed Malcolm, so right now they hate me as much as they hate you two.”

“Why should we trust you?” William asked her skeptically, though he had a good gut feeling about her.

“It’s not like you have any other option,” she said. Sheathing her knife, she pulled a revolver from her holster and made sure that it was loaded. “I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ those bastards kill me. Y’all best get your weapons ready — we’re gettin’ outta here.”

Well, she certainly wasn’t wrong about their lack of a choice. William could feel John’s eyes on him as he clasped his belt around his waist. He gave them both a nod, and placed a readied hand on the grip of his gun. 

He was sure as hell willing to take a chance on this stranger.

After all, what choice did they have? 

“Yes, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points to whoever can guess the name of the newcomer...


	20. Yes, Yes, and Thrice, Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William, John, & Tilly plan their escape and Maebh has a startling revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back with another chapter and it's a long boah, apologies in advance! Thank you kindly to the influx of comments on the last chapter. Thoughts are always welcome and reading them genuinely makes my day! Hope you're all doing well in your respective lockdowns. Happy reading!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Mrs. Sadie Adler, Widow” — Woody Jackson, “An Ugly Fact of Life” — Jackson Williams, “You Are My Sunshine” — The Civil Wars, “Memories” — Patrick Jonsson, “Beautiful Mess (Live)” — LOS LEO

“So,” William began, checking that his gun was loaded. “How many are we talkin’?”

Their unexpected saviour stood by the closed door, revolver in hand as the two of them readied themselves. “Maybe five or six? Anthony and two others left to go discuss a ransom for you, so we don’t have much time before someone goes to tell him what happened.”

“Perfect,” John grumbled, weapon drawn and ready. “Then what the hell’s our plan?”

William thought back to the altercation outside the Montrose saloon. “You lot took our horses, right?”

The girl nodded. “Anthony always loves to steal damn horses. They’re hitched in a small barn just south of here.”

“Close enough for us to make a run for it?”

She seemed unsure. “Maybe, if you two are quick enough. It’s through a thicket of trees on a hillside, so we might be able to lose ’em in there.”

“Sounds risky,” John noted. “Real risky.”

“Well I hate to break it to ya, but they had no intension of lettin’ y’all go, even _with_ payment. Your options are either run with me and risk dyin’, or stay here and get a bullet between your eyes.”

“I’ll take my chances with her,” William insisted, drawing his knife into his other hand. “I dunno about you, Marston, but I need to get back to my sister. Look, me and you are two of the best riders in camp. If we can get to our horses then we can outrun these fuckers no problem. I hate to say it, but you’re a decent shot and if we’re to get outta here, you’re goin’ t’need to perform. If we’ve any chance of gettin’ away, we’ll need all three of us, so c’mon.”

John sighed heavily but seemed resigned to the facts. “Alright, let’s do this. Lead the way, Foreman.”

“I ain’t a Foreman,” the woman replied with a bit of acidity in her tone. “Not by choice, and certainly not after killin’ one of them.”

“Then what do we call you?”

“For now, Tilly.”

“William,” the Irishman said, gesturing to himself and then to his companion. “And John.”

“Pleasure to meet y’all, but we gotta go now. You two follow me and stay close. They’re gonna shoot first and ask questions later once they find the body.”

“After you, Miss Tilly.”

She opened the door with an eery creak, head peaking ever so slightly out to look down the hall. William followed her out the door to the right with Marston behind him, crouched low and trying to move swiftly on their feet. His legs ached after being uncomfortably tied up in that chair, but he pushed on, eager to get out of there sooner rather than later. They reached a corner and Tilly brought them to a halt, checked both directions, then moved again to the left. As they came to a dilapidated staircase, a yell sounded from the other side of the building. 

Looking over their shoulders, someone could be heard shouting at the top of their voice. “Someone’s killed Malcolm! Check on the goddamn bounty hunters!”

“We gotta move,” Tilly urged them, just as foot steps went thundering along the wooden floors and another voice announced that they were gone. “There’s a back door just behind the stairs, c’mon!”

The men followed hastily, John covering the rear as they rounded the stairs and ran towards said exit. Suddenly, the house came alive with voices, members of the gang calling out to one another about where the prisoners had disappeared to. The sound of a man hurrying through the doorway behind them drew William’s head back around.

“They’re gettin’ away!” he cried out, reaching for his holstered pistol as he alerted the others.

Without so much as a blink, John aimed and fired, downing the man with a single bullet in the head.

“We definitely gotta go now,” he declared in an urgent tone. “They would’ve all heard that!”

William muttered an expletive under his breath as they burst through the door and out into the cool night air. “Which way’s the barn?”

“Here,” Tilly called back, pointing them straight ahead. “This way!”

As quick as they could manage, the three of them set off running together, heading south to their freedom. William breathed in deep, the cool air burning his lungs as he forced himself into a sprint. The grassy ground below his feet began to slope slowly downwards. He spotted the thick trees ahead, getting closer with each footfall. To his right, another Foreman Brother appeared, signalling to the rest where they were headed. It took William three shots to kill him.

A jarring whiz flew overhead caused him to duck, a bullet splitting the bark of a tree to his right.

It was small damn house, and word travelled fast.

The gang didn’t mess around. Instead of risking their escape, they chose to open fire.

“Keep runnin’!” Tilly urged them. “We gotta get to the trees!”

“Hennigan, I could use some help here!”

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he saw Marston taking a few shots at their attackers as he went. William mirrored his actions, but focused most of his attention on running ahead. Bullets reigned over them, narrowly missing their intended targets as the darkness of the foliage worked in their favour.

“Keep your head down, Marston! Just keep runnin’!”

They ducked and wheezed through the trees as they grew less sparse the further down the incline they ran. No longer able to see their pursuers over his shoulder, William holstered his weapons and ran as fast as he could. He leapt over fallen branches and rocks as the three of them stayed closer together.His legs burned, aching and straining as he ran for his life and placed his trust in this woman he had just met. The more he moved, the heavier his right leg grew, numbness forming and throwing off his balance. The numbness suddenly made way for burning heat in his muscles, flaring worse and worse the further he pushed.

Something wasn’t right.

He only realised what was happening as he barrelled over an uneven part of ground and his leg grew so heavy that he awkwardly fell to his knees, struggling to move it with his usual ease. The force of the fall took the wind out of him and he glanced down at his thigh wondering why the hell it felt wet. Only then did he notice the hole in his trousers and the red stain quickly forming in the material.

“Fuck,” he breathed, struggling to get up. “Fuckin’ _shite_.”

His breaths quickened upon realising he had been shot. Ringing in his ears deafened the noises of the forest around him, even as he felt himself being pulled to his feet.

“You alright?” the distance voice of John asked through his haziness. He was confused seeing his worried expression as he too noticed the wound. “Shit, you gotta move. C’mon!”

Despite his wooziness, he knew John was right. He had no choice but to keep moving, even if the fire in his thigh made him want to do otherwise. With his companion’s help, he got back up, moving with the support of an arm around his shoulders. The ringing in his ears continued, deafening the men back at the house who were surely looking for them.

“This way,” Tilly directed them from where she stood a little ways ahead. “It’s just up ahead here.”

“They hit him,” Marston explained hastily, helping William forward. “We’re movin’ as fast as we can.”

Tilly came to them then, seeing the injury for herself. “Shit, do you need a hand?”

John shook his head. “Just keep us covered while I bring him ’round to the front of the barn.”

With Marston’s help, William was able to hobble around the small wooden building, the pressure on his thigh easing slightly with someone taking some extra weight. Eventually the ringing dissipated and the chaotic noises of the night was all he could hear. Much to his relief, the bullets ceased, only to be replaced with distant shouting that seemed far enough away for now. He slumped down against the building and took a seat in the dirt, shielded from their searching pursuers.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he grumbled, looking down at his injured leg. The sight of the blood oozing out brought him no comfort. Depending on what the bullet tore up as it passed through his limb, he could bleed out in merely ten minutes. Almost instantly, he began to feel lightheaded upon such realisation. “I can’t believe those pricks shot me.”

John squatted down next to him, looking him over. “It looks like it came out the other side at least.”

“I don’t mean to be pushy, fellas,” Tilly began, looking back around the barn. “But we ain’t got much time to work with.”

“I need to check him over,” John replied. “Can I trust you to go get our horses?”

“Leavin’ you two out here in the dust ain’t my style.” Without another word, Tilly entered the barn while the men waited outside.

The older man took a closer look at the bullet hole, trying to see under the dim light of an overhead lamp. “Looks like they got you on the outside of your thigh and it ain’t bleedin’ too bad. I’m thinkin’ that it didn’t hit anythin’ too important.”

“I hope so,” William replied without an ounce of sarcasm. The thought of bleeding out in the middle of nowhere didn’t sound remotely appealing to him. “It burns somethin’ fierce.”

“You never been shot before? Kinda surprisin’ with the mouth you got on ya.”

He laughed shakily at that, trying to steady his breathing while his heart thumped faster and faster. Looking through his satchel, he pulled out some cloth kept for such an occasion. Instead hands tore off a long strip, and he wrapped it around his wounded thigh with a grunt. “I guess I’m full’a surprises.”

“You need to relax,” Marston insisted, pulling some alcohol from his own supply. “You’re pale as shit and not lookin’ too good. Lemme pour this on your leg.”

“Kinda hard to relax right now,” William heaved, allowing John to pour the whiskey on the wounds. He gritted his teeth and cried out under his breath, pain searing through his nerves. His thigh shook as he tried to use his hands grasping to steady it. When he was offered the bottle, he took a hefty gulp. “Jaysus _Christ!”_

“You ain’t got much choice. If you start to panic, you’ll got into shock and you might goddamn faint and make this whole thing worse. I ain’t no doctor, but if I’m right, you’re lucky that bullet hit you where it did. We need to get you back to camp now to make sure.” From his satchel, he produced two clumps of cloth. “Use these to put pressure on the wounds.”

Taking his offering, William pressed the material down while he tied the strip tightly around his leg. More pain, and by God was he already sick of this. He would survive if Marston’s judgement was right, but it was hard to be positive right now. He could just as easily die if that bullet tore up certain parts of his thigh. “It didn’t even hurt when I got hit, shit.”

“Yeah, I know all too well.” Marston suddenly placed a hand on his shoulder, and he met his eyes with a look of surprise. “Just calm down. You won’t do yourself any favours if you panic, remember? We gotta get outta here.”

At that moment, Tilly came from within the barn, leading both Dantès and Applejack with her. William had never been so happy to see his big, sooty buckskin stallion before. He did his best to calm down, forcefully steadying his breaths to help himself focus on the task at hand.

Marston seemed to notice this. “Plus, you can’t go off dyin’ — who’ll keep me away from your sister if you do? You wouldn’t dare do me the favour.”

William chuckled genuinely this time. He knew exactly what he was doing and for once he appreciated the distraction. “You’re mad if you think I’m goin’ t’die and leave her alone to deal with you, greasy.”

“Now you’re startin’ to sound like the Willie I know.”

“Ah shurrup yew, ye tick.”

“And _now_ you sound like Maebh,” he snorted and offered him a hand up. “C’mon then. We gotta move before they catch up.”

William was many things, but he certainly wasn’t an idiot. He took the offered hand and was pulled to his feet. His leg flared again but he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the burning.

“Miss Tilly,” Marston began, taking Applejack’s reins. “You take William’s horse and I’ll ride with him on mine. He ain’t in no fit state to handle Dantès on his own.”

Tilly made no arguments, happy enough to lift herself on to the tall horse once she and Marston had helped to get William into the other saddle. He sat behind his friend, holding on to his shoulders for support and trying to not think about how warm and wet his leg was feeling.

“Which direction is Fulton in?”Marston asked their rescuer. “I ain’t got no clue where I am right now.”

“Should be a straight shot that way,” she replied, pointing thankfully away from the house. “Want me to take the lead for the moment? It’ll probably take a few hours to get there.”

“If you don’t mind. Once I get my footin’ I’ll take over. You alright back there, cowboy?”

“Just about,” William replied, holding on tighter as the horses were pushed into a gallop. “I’ve been better.”

“I’m gonna need you to keep talkin’ to me, alright? You can keep tellin’ me off if you want, I don’t care as long as you’re coherent.”

“I can do that ’til my last breath, y’know.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

William may dislike Marston with every fibre of his being, but not enough to die over pride. Right now, he was indebted to this Miss Tilly and maybe even a bit indebted to John for how he helped him move through the undergrowth with a bleeding gunshot wound. He would take the pain over death without argument, the thought of never seeing his sister again far outweighing the former.

Eventually, the wooziness in his head and the pain in his leg overtook his dislike for John. Right now, there were more important things to worry about. He just wanted to go home

* * *

“They definitely should’ve been back by now.”

Maebh looked to Abigail for reassurance, and the brunette seemed to agree. Karen tried to pacify them. “You both need to get some sleep. Stayin’ up worryin’ won’t do any good.”

Annabelle tried also tried to keep them calm. “I agree. Get some rest, Maebh. Your brother and John will be back again you wake up.

The four women stood on the edge of camp in the early hours of the morning, Maebh pacing anxiously in front of them and constantly looking to the camp trail for her brother to reappear. She had a bad feeling that she couldn’t shake. With no morning light yet, it was difficult to see in the darkness and it only added to her anxiety. When William and John hadn’t returned that evening, she felt her stomach starting to slowly twist. It was terribly unlike him to stay away from camp longer than promised and she couldn’t help it as her mind steered towards dangerously negative scenarios. She couldn’t think about William without thinking about John either and also hoped that he was still well. Dutch tried to ease her woes, assuring her that they would have each others back’s should anything happen, though the job was a relatively easy one to manage.

“I can’t leave her on her own when she’s like this,” Abigail argued. “You two know how she gets when she worries ’bout that boy.”

Annabelle sighed and tried to rationalise things. “And stayin’ up like this won’t bring him back any quicker. I understand her concern, but she’s stressin’ herself out too. Dutch said he would send the Callanders out in the mornin’ if they’re not back by then.”

“I just have…” Maebh hesitated, looking for the right words to convince them of her woes. “A bad feelin’ ’bout this. William always tells me how long he’ll be away from camp when he goes without me.”

“Maybe him and Marston stayed in a hotel,” Karen suggested and received a number of looks from the other women. She rolled her eyes. “Alright, maybe they got _separate_ rooms in a hotel…”

“Even that wouldn’t be far enough apart for those two,” Abigail replied. “And you know it.”

“It was just an idea…”

“Look,” Annabelle began again, placing a gentle hand on Maebh’s shoulder. “Of course I understand your concern, but will you at least come sit by the fire? You’re clearly exhausted so have a seat and we’ll stay with you. They got Davey on guard duty anyway, and he’ll shout as soon as he sees anythin’. How’s that sound?”

She had been about to concede to her logic when Davey’s voice came from the tree line. “We need some help over here!”

The sound of horse hooves came thundering down the trail and she turned to see both Dantès and Applejack appearing from the darkness, Davey running after them with a repeater in his hands. Maebh took a few steps forward and the small smile on her face immediately fell as she realised William was not atop his horse. He was instead slumped over behind John, hanging on to him and looking exhausted. The animals were brought to a halt by the hitching posts as some of the gang came out of their tents. Dutch was ahead of them all.

“Where were you’s?” Maebh asked before he could even get a word in. She ran up to her brother but only then noticed a bloody bandage around his thigh. “What the _hell_ happened? Are you alright?”

“It’s a long story,” John replied, hastily dismounting from the horse and running around to help William to the ground. “Bill, quick, gimme a hand here.”

Bill’s large frame quickly slid passed her, gently shooing her out of the way as they both hoisted the young man from the back of the horse. His skin was pale and slick with sweat, eyelids droopy with exhaustion and teeth clenching as he was moved.

“Be careful!” John demanded. “It’s his leg, watch it!”

“Don’t you _‘it’s a long story’_ me, Marston!” Maebh snipped, quickly moving to her little brother’s aid. “What the fuck happened?”

“We got captured, beat up, and he got shot—”

“_Shot?”_

“But he’ll be fine,” he hastily added. “We wouldn’t have made it out if it wasn’t for Miss Tilly there.”

By now, the whole gang were up and awake to see what the fuss was about. Dutch was quickly calling for assistance. “Miss Grimshaw! Reverend Swanson, I need help over here! Bring him to his bed. William, my boy, you’re safe now.”

There was a great hustle and bustle of people as reinforcements arrived. John and Bill hurriedly helped him to their tent, limping along with his wounded leg raised. He was carefully placed on his bedroll, cursing in discomfort under his breath. Maebh followed along, slipping between bodies to get closer to her brother until Miss Grimshaw stood between them. Her tone was uncharacteristically soft. “My dear, leave it to us.”

For once in her live, Maebh dared to answer her back. “But he’s my brother, Miss Grimshaw, and he’s been bloody shot!”

“Trust me, if he was near death he would’ve bled out already. Let us handle this. We’ll get him cleaned and stitched up and let you know as soon we’re finished.”

Even though Susan was being reasonable, the intense urge to protect her sibling wouldn’t leave. She was completely ready to argue her point until Abigail saw the look in her eye and cut in. “Mind if I sit in with you, Miss Grimshaw?” She looked at Maebh supportively. “I can help keep an eye on him for her without too much fuss.”

“You can help me clean his wounds up too, Miss Roberts,” Miss Grimshaw agreed. “But if it helps the poor girl calm down then yes.”

“Of course I’ll help. Hey, Arthur?”

Maebh looked over her shoulder to see Arthur standing a few feet away with a concerned but calm expression. Upon hearing Abigail’s call, he approached. “Yes, Miss Roberts?”

“Why don’t you keep Maebh company while she waits to see her brother?”

Maebh knew what she was doing and she would definitely appreciate it when she calmed down a bit. If there was anyone in camp that could manage to ease her worries other than her own brother, it was Mr. Morgan. 

Before she dismissed the idea, Arthur spoke for himself. “Sure, whatever she needs.”

Dutch then turned to them with this Miss Tilly by his side. “Miss Hennigan, while they look after your brother, would you do me the favour of tendin’ to John’s wounds? The boy took a hefty smack over the head and I need to have a chat with this capable young woman who helped bring our boys home to us.”

_Fuckin’ lovely. Just dandy._

Upon hearing his name being called, John looked up and met Maebh’s gaze for what felt like minutes. She couldn’t look away and could’t argue with Dutch’s request either. Turning away when his eyes became too much for her, she felt rough fingers on her arm. Arthur gave her an encouraging nod and said. “I’ll get some water and cloth for him while you two wait in his tent for me, alright?”

As he left to fetch the right supplies, Maebh reluctantly gave John a nod and began to walk to his tent. He followed a respectful distance behind her, but that didn’t stop the shiver running up her spine — she could practically _feel_ his eyes on her. Even still, she had little energy to worry about him when her mind was focused solely on her brother’s wellbeing. Even if they were right to turn her away from the tent while they helped to mend his injurires, she just wanted to be by William’s side and keep his safe. It was her job after all — she was the eldest and she promised her parents that she would look after him. 

Inside John’s tent, the two of them seemed relatively shut off from the rest of camp. It was a large and spacious structure, one gifted to him as the ‘golden boy’ of camp. With a cot of his own, he also had a little bedside table in the form of a crate, a half-melted away candle, and a chair for any company. He took a seat on the coat, sighing heavily as he did. Hunched over, he ran a hand over his tired face before looking up at her.

“Here,” he said, reaching over to pull the chair closer to him. “Have a seat or you’re gonna start pacin’ ’round.”

Part of her wanted to tell him to shove the chair up his arse, but she supposed she would lash out at anyone right now given the opportunity. She looked at him skeptically and this response caused him to keep talking. 

“Trust me,” he insisted with a sympathetic look. “He’s in good hands and that bullet in his leg didn’t hit anythin’ important. If it did, he would’ve bled out hours ago. I promise he’ll be fine. C’mon, sit down and take it easy.”

“It’s a bit hard to take it easy right now,” she replied but plopped herself down in the chair, making sure that her legs didn’t brush his as she did, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him. “Considerin’ he’s over there and I can’t keep my eye on him.”

“Do you think Miss Grimshaw would let somethin’ happen to him on her watch? Not a chance.”

“I know, but he’s still my little brother and it’s my job to protect him, John.”

“I know that, darlin’, but you know he wouldn’t want you gettin’ so worried over him. He’ll be alright. I saw the wound myself and the bullet didn’t do as much damage as it could. Y’know, the whole journey back here, all he could talk about was gettin’ back to you — you were his main concern too.”

She realised then that John also had a part to play in saving William’s life. She had yet to get the full story out of him, but that much was still obvious to her.

“Thank you for bringin’ him home,” she said quietly, feeling a bit guilting for lashing out at those who only wanted to help. Her eyes stung with tears threatening to spill. “If anythin’ happened to him, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“He’ll be okay,” was the comforting response he offered and then placed a hand on her thigh. The amount of reassurance the physical contact brought her was surprising but still welcomed. “It’ll take way more than that to stop that brother o’yours. He’s in good hands now. I don’t think either of us would’ve made it without Miss Tilly.”

John was her friend and he had been for years. Though it hadn’t been very long since their night together, she admitted that she missed the ease they used to have in each others company. She wasn’t fond of this new awkward atmosphere and longed for the nights they spent together talking and drinking like kids who had grown up together. It was so disconcerting to sit next to him at the campfire but still feel his friendship slipping out of her grasp. Far away, and yet so close. Now somehow it felt like old times and yet that little bit different. Worrying about that boy of hers could send her into a nervous mess and the comfort that came with John’s company was sorely needed. He seemed intent on dispelling her fears.

Appreciating his help, she placed her hand on top of his, feeling his rough skin beneath her fingers and drawing whatever encouragement he could offer. He looked at her for a moment, eyes insistent on ensuring that she believed him. She had no choice but to do just that.

Outside the tent, heavy footfalls and the clearing of a throat caused her head to whip around. Arthur stood outside, eying them carefully with a look of confusion and a basin of water in his hands. She immediately wretched her hand from John’s and shifted her leg so that she was released from his hold.

“Am I interruptin’?” he dared to ask, brow raised and lips pulled tight.

“No,” Maebh reassured him hastily, getting up to take the basin from his hands. “Not at all.”

The look he gave her was unfamiliar and jarring. He was studying them so skeptically that she worried how damning their interaction had looked. It probably didn’t seem great to him — practically holding hands and looking at each other the way they had been. She internally kicked herself, disappointed that she could do something so small but so stupid while others were around, let only the very man she was pining after.

He said nothing but took some cloth he held under his arm and placed them on the bed. After an uncertain beat, he sat on the end of the cot furthest from John and clasped his hands together. As she got to dampening the cloths, he looked to Marston for answers. “What the hell happened to you two?”

Maebh sat in her chair and cleaned the small cut on John’s head as he explained how they were set upon in Montrose and taken in by the Foreman Brothers. Knowing William was safely in their tent now made it a little easier to deal with. Both Maebh and Arthur listened intently as he told the story. Luckily for him, the injury didn’t require stitches, but he’d be left with a bump for a while. Though she knew John wouldn’t care, she tried to keep an overly respectful distance from him even when she was focusing on the task at hand. Exceptionally paranoid under Arthur’s wandering gaze, she sat in her chair and stayed with them as she waited to hear about her brother. Much like his friend already had, Arthur offered her words of support and insisted that William would be fine now that he was safe back at camp.

John — despite his obvious exhaustion — insisted on staying awake until he heard that William was well, and Arthur made conversation so that her mind wouldn’t go on a negative tangent about his injuries. The sun was starting to rise when Susan stuck her head into the tent.

“He’s askin’ for you, Miss Hennigan,” was all she needed to say to send Maebh hurrying to their shared tent.

Abigail was waiting for her too and offered her an encouraging smile as she left to give them some privacy. William lay on his bedroll, wrapped in a light blanket and looking less pale and cleaner than when she last saw him. He looked up at her with relaxed, squinty eyes, smiling under his beard. The sight of him nearly sent her into a crying fit and she bit her lower lip to try hold herself together.

“Hey, you,” he groaned. “Sorry I took so long.”

“You’ve nothin’ to be sorry for,” she reassured him and sat down next to him. Placing a soft hand on his forehead, she added. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Alright,” he admitted. “Tired and a little sore. They gave me morphine and stitched me up so I can’t complain all that much. Reverend Swanson told me I have’ta stay off my leg for a few days.”

She nodded her head, absentmindedly stroking his hair. “That’s alright, I can help you with whatever you need. Marston told me what happened. You had me worried there.”

“I didn’t want’a worry you, y’know.”

“I know, but it’s my job — I’m goin’ to worry regardless. I’d be lost without you.”

“If you think some measly bullet is goin’ t’stop me from gettin’ back to you, then you don’t know me as well as ye think.”

She let out a little laugh, happy to see that his humour hadn’t left him. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you too, yih big sap. C’mere.” He extended an arm to her. “Give me a hug, just be gentle.”

If he wasn’t injured, Maebh would have dove into his arms, but a gentle hug would do her just fine. Her head rested on his chest as his arms held her tight. She couldn’t imagine ever losing him and she hoped such a thing would never happen. There were no guarantees in the life of outlaws and had things played out different that night, he probably never would have made it home at all.

Despite the morning light, William quickly drifted off into a deep sleep. The relief at having him safe with her again and the rise and fall of his chest was enough to ease Maebh right off after him.

***** * *

“Whatchu writin’ there?”

Maebh’s eyes drifted from the journal on the table to the man standing in front of her in his signature gamblers hat. She grinned as he took a seat next to her. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Morgan.”

It had been a few days since William and John’s return. Things in camp had settled, everyone notably more relaxed considering everyone had survived the events in Montrose. Maebh had finally had the opportunity to thank the newcomer for bringing her brother and friend home safe. Tilly Jackson was a former member of the Foreman Brothers having been abducted and forced into joining as a young teenager. Left with little choice, she was never fond of either Anthony nor Malcolm, so when the latter made a particularly aggressive pass at her, she had no problem defending herself and killing him. She had seemingly no regrets in killing him either. With Dutch’s help, she returned to where her mother worked in a nearby town only to discover that she had died. With nowhere else to go, she remained at camp for the time being, still young at sixteen and unsure as to what to do. As he was want to do, Dutch offered her a place in the gang after doing him the favour of helping the men escape. The two seemed to bond almost immediately, though most of the camp seemed swayed with Tilly’s genuine good nature. Arthur would often describe her as being the sweetest little thing he ever saw, and also the saddest. 

Maebh hadn’t left camp either, staying back to look after a temporarily immobile William. Fetching him fresh fruits and cuts of meat she cooked herself at the campfire was part of her day to day and she was happy to do it. Taking a rare moment away from their tent, she decided to pick up her pen and journal, and reread the story she had written about the Cattle Raid of Cooley. William sat on the shoreline a small distance away from camp, reading a book and promising to give her a shout when he needed a hand to move. Considering they spent even more time in each others company now, it was normal for them to take moments away from one another. 

This time however, it seemed that Maebh had company. The two of them hadn’t talked much since that night, so on the rare occasion he might approach, she was more than willing to chat.

“Maybe I _would_ like to know,” Arthur countered. “Only if you’re comfortable, of course.”

Maebh conceded, though she was happy to do so. “Do you remember that story I told you before about Queen Medb?

“And King Ailill? Sure I remember. She wanted that fancy bull.”

“You’ve got a good memory.”

“And you’re good at tellin’ stories,” he replied then nodded to the journal. “You writin’ it out?”

“Yeah.” She tapped the pages with her fingers. “I think I’ve finished it actually. I’m just readin’ over it.”

Her words seem to impress him. “Really? Do you think you’d still let me read it?”

Against her own volition, her mouth fell open at the question. “Um, well yeah, of course you can. It’s just… eh, well, I didn’t want to bother you with it. Figured you had more important things to focus on.”

“That don’t mean this ain’t important,” he replied. “My mind has been elsewhere, but I’d still like to read it if you’d let me. It might help take my mind off things.”

Having resided herself to never getting to show him her stories, she had to force herself to stay calm. She had desperately wanted this since he encouraged her to start writing but a little part of her was nervous for his critique. Even still, it would be something they could share — just the two of them — and that excited her. She had been about to tell him that yes, of course he could read her story and she was dying to hear what he thought, but then she remembered where the story was written. In her journal — the journal in which she wrote about pining after Arthur and sleeping with John — _that_ journal.

“Uh…”

“Is there… a problem?” he asked, concerned.

“No,” she replied, then cringed. “Well, it’s just I wrote it down in my journal along with all my personal thoughts and stuff.”

“Oh… Don’t worry, I won’t read them or nothin’ if you trust me with it. I promise — I got one myself, so I know how personal those thoughts are when you write them down. Of course if you ain’t comfortable, I don’t blame you either.”

Maebh looked at him for a moment, noting the look of genuine understanding on his face. The fact of the matter was she did trust Arthur, in more ways than just respecting her privacy.

“Here,” she said, bending the corners of the first page of the story as well as the last before pushing the journal to his side of the table. “I trust you not to go rootin’.”

He held up his hands before saying. “You sure? I didn’t come here to put you under pressure or nothin’.”

“I know,” she assured him, tapping its leather cover. “I trust you.”

He lowered his hands in defeat, a small smile toying at his lips. With a nod of his head, he placed a protective hand over the journal. “You have my word I won’t read nothin’ personal.”

“I know and I appreciate that. As long as you don’t see my entries ’bout fancyin’ Bill, we’re still friends.”

“Jesus,” he laughed. “At least pick someone _believable_ if you’re gonna make a joke.” Suddenly his smile faded and he grew a little more serious. Tapping his fingers on the book, he looked at her from below the rim of his hat. “Hey, uh, can I ask you somethin’?”

A little skeptical of his shift in demeanour, Maebh agreed. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“It’s a little personal.”

“It’s not like we haven’t gotten personal before.”

“Alright well, is there… somethin’ goin’ on between you and John?”

Maebh felt her heart immediately jump. “… _Huh?”_

“I mean…” Arthur held his hands together, choosing his words carefully. “Ain’t no rule in camp that says you can’t but I got the feelin’ that there might’a been somethin’ between you two.”

“No,” she blurted out before she could think. Clearing her throat slightly, she steadied herself and spoke again. “No, no, there’s nothin’ goin’ on with me and John.”

As far as she was concerned, that wasn’t a _complete_ lie. Yes, they had had one regretful night together, but it hadn’t signalled the beginning of any sort of relationship. If there was someone she wished would never know about that night, it was Arthur. She would rather put the whole event behind her and move on as soon as possible.

“Oh,” he drawled. “I mean, I ain’t passin’ judgement, though I think you could do better than Marston. I thought I saw him tryin’ it on with you.”

“Who _hasn’t_ he tried it on with?”

“That’s fair,” he replied with a breathy snicker. “Maybe I was readin’ too much into it.”

“I think he’s more interested in Abigail than anyone else.” She watched him curiously as he took in her words, scratching at his scruffy chin in a thoughtful manner. Her mind reeled, anxious that he possibly didn’t believe her, but the lake of suspicion in his expression put her at ease. Considering the subject matter of their conversation, a small but brave part of her decided to question him. “So… what about you?”

He raised a brow. “Me?”

“Yeah. Is there, eh…” She waved a hand around camp. “… anyone ’round here _you’ve_ got your eye on?”

Her question left him apparently speechless, a nervous smile forming before he looked over his shoulder a few times, fidgeting under her gaze. “Well, I…”

“I’m sorry,” she caught herself. “That was probably a bit nosey of me to ask.”

“I mean I asked you first, so it’s only fair.” He clasped a hand around his wrist then added. “No. No, I can’t say that I do.”

“Really? But you’re a catch.”

That made him laugh quite a bit. “Awh, I fear you show me too much kindness sometimes, Maebh.”

“I thought we already established that we’re a pair of fools?”

“I suppose we did.” He sighed then, fingers squeezing into his skin until it pale. “I guess that I… Well, I don’t really think I deserve it all that much.”

“Why wouldn’t you deserve someone’s company?”

“With the life I’ve lived, I don’t think I’m deservin’ of it. What happened with Eliza and Isaac got me thinkin’. Y’know, I was engaged before, long before I even met Eliza. We were real young but I loved her and bought a ring. Her father wouldn’t allow it — said I was too rough to marry into his family. He didn’t want his daughter runnin’ ’round with a criminal. It was a long time ago now and sometimes I still think of her, but I used to look at Isaac as some sort of second chance; a chance at some joy, I suppose. It wasn’t about his mother and I, but just about bein’ a good father. I wasn’t good enough to marry Mary and I wasn’t good enough to be a father neither. Maybe havin’ a family just isn’t for me with the things I’ve done. What would _I_ have to offer a good woman? I don’t know if I have it in me.”

Maebh listened intently, the urge to grab Arthur and shake him by his shoulders almost boiling over. He was a fool, but a fool in pain no less. Part of her wanted to scream and shout: _You’re a good man and you deserve a happy life! You make me happy! I care about you! I want to be with you! I love you!_

Oh.

_Oh_.

_Oh, no…_

“Do you really believe that?” she stuttered. “That you don’t deserve happiness with someone else?”

“It’s kinda hard not to,” he admitted. He lowered his head, eyes disappearing beneath his hat. “Even if I _did_ love someone, I doesn’t matter. She would deserve a lot better.”

For a moment, their eyes met and Maebh could feel herself getting lost in the various shades of green that stared back, like speckled moss grown over shards of silver flint. She searched their depths, transfixed with both the gentleness and pain she found. He could be so ruthless and was rough as his first love’s father described, and yet the safety she found as his eyes lingered on her own left her speechless. She had been warned of many things as a child, both from her parents and her adopted family — don’t talk to strangers, be wary of men who don’t value you, go with your gut — but never had she been warned of green eyes and how they could make her fall.

As if realising that he had perhaps shared too much, Arthur abruptly got to his feet and severed their connection. Maebh blinked, dazed by his hasty movement and the revelation of his emotional distance.

“I think I’ve nearly chewed your ear off,” he said with a forced smile. He held the journal carefully in his rugged hands. “I’ll give this back to you when I’m finished.”

“Okay,” was all she could say at first. With a shaking hand, she slipped her pen into her pocket, trying to ignore the slowly twisting sensation forming in her gut. “We can talk more later.”

“O’course. Be well now, Miss Hennigan.”

With a tip of his hat, he was gone, retreating to the safety of his tent and leaving her at the table alone. Once he was safely out of her eyesight, the tears began to fall, blurring her vision as she wiped her eyes with the heel of her palm. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears and chest, almost creeping up her throat as her breaths became short and jarring. Aware she was about to start ugly-crying right in the middle of camp, she stood up and hurried to the shoreline, thankfully avoiding any of the gang members along the way. William looked up when he saw her coming. Already knowing that something was wrong, he shut his book and gave her his full attention. 

Sitting down on the ground and unable to hold back the helpless frown, she struggled to find the right words while he waited patiently.

Now openly crying, she just about managed to speak. “I think I love him, William. I love him and feel like a fool ’cause he… h-he can never—”

Lost in her sadness, William merely pulled her into a hug. Unfazed by the outburst, he gently hushed her. Lost for words, neither of them said anything else. 

All she could do was sit and cry.


	21. To Me the Task is a Loathsome One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur contemplates his confusing feelings while Maebh and John are forced into close quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long boah for you's to (hopefully) enjoy! Just wanted to say that I've really appreciated the support this fic has gotten of late. The comments are an absolute pleasure to read and I'm so glad you's are enjoying all the goings on so far. Engagement has been great, so thank you so much. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this one!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “A Man And A Woman” — U2, “We Are Climbing Jacob’s Ladder” — Bernice Johnson Reagon, “Enjoy the Silence” — Susanna and the Magical Orchestra, “When I Say You Are Killing Me” — Ten Kills the Pack

** _17th July, 1894, outside Fulton, South Dakota_ **

_Things at camp have been quite calm lately, which is a welcome change. I can’t say that it bothers me too much. I’ve been trying to get out and do some simpler jobs lately, considering it’s been a while since I’ve done any work around here. It feels like the right thing to do, considering William isn’t fit and Maebh hasn’t left camp since he was shot. We’re technically down two of our hardest workers, so it seemed liked a good opportunity to try get back on the horse, so to speak._

_Speaking of Maebh, she hasn’t really left my thoughts since our conversation back in June. We haven’t spoken all that much bar the topic of her writing and I’ve praised her ability. I’m no expert, but that girl has a talent. Other than that, our conversations haven’t reached the intimate level that last one had. It’s almost frightening to admit, but when she asked if there was anyone I might like in camp, my first thoughts were of _ _her__. I would say that I’m surprised, but I seem to be a man of many foolish choices lately. My first inkling that I might like Maebh more than just my friend was when I saw her and Marston together. I couldn’t help it — his hand on her leg had me feeling an unexpected level of protective instinct I haven’t experienced in a while. I tend to be protective of the ladies in camp anyway — I’d do anything for those girls, especially Maebh — but that felt _ _new_ _ different. I might have been little jealous even, and I’ve never felt that way towards John either. I’m not all that sure and it’s hard to get a grasp on things._

_I’m really starting to feel like an awful fool — that poor girl can do a lot better than me and deserves a lot more than I can offer. I mean, Marston isn’t all that great either, but at least he’s closer to her age than me and they’ve always been close. I’m one sad, ugly, low-down sonuvabitch, who will only bring her problems. She deserves a good life, not something I could offer that isn’t even worth pissing on._

_Maybe these feelings will eventually go away, but I do wonder if it’s even possible._

* * *

The morning light of the July sun had Arthur squinting his eyes, his hand shielding them as he stepped out from beneath his tent. Going about his usual routine, he poured himself a cup of coffee and chatted idly with Abigail and Tilly stood about a robbery they did the week before. Then he went on to chop firewood and do some other chores. When he needed a break a little while later, he spotted William sitting at one of the tables and restringing his violin. As he walked over to him, he noticed Dutch, Maebh, and John talking on the shoreline. He would’ve looked away if he had any sense, but he noticed the slightly sour expression on Maebh’s face and was intrigued. Perhaps he could ask her about it later if he got the chance… 

Turning his attention back to the other Hennigan sibling, he greeted him with a nod. “How’re you doin’ kid?”

“Not bad,” William replied with a pleasant smile, looking up at him from under his flat cap. “You goin’ t’join me?”

“Why not?” He took a seat across from him before pulling a cigarette from his pocket and offering the younger man one of his own. “How’s the leg?”

“Gettin’ there,” he said. “It’ll probably be another two months before I’m walkin’ without a limp which isn’t great, but it’s definitely better than losin’ it.”

“Or _dyin’_.”

William nodded his head with a snigger. “Yeah, or _that_. Swanson said the pain will eventually go away, but I’m young and he says I should make a full recovery eventually.”

“That’s certainly good. Could’a turned out a lot worse.”

“No, you’re right.” William looked at his instrument with a thoughtful expression. “I just hate sittin’ ’round and not bein’ able to go on any jobs right now. It feels like I’m not pullin’ my weight.”

“You ain’t go nothin’ to worry about,” Arthur reassured him, then took a drag off his cigarette. “You’ve been pullin’ your weight for years so Dutch ain’t gonna chastise you when you’re recoverin’ from bein’ _shot_.”

“I guess I was worried it might seem like I’m milkin’ it,” he said, trying to elaborate on his feelings. “I’m not the only one in camp who has been shot.”

“You ain’t and everyone was given their time to heal. You won’t be any different so don’t worry yourself about it. Could be worse — you could’ve been shot _twice_.”

“Jesus, remember that?” William sat back in his chair in amusement. “I’m surprised Pádraig is willin’ to leave his tent at all.”

“He’s a lucky bastard,” Arthur agreed, eying Copper who was trotting over to them with a wagging tail. He casually scratched at the animal’s ear. “Although part of me wonders if Matthew wasn’t actually tryin’ to kill him.”

“You mean he just wanted him to suffer?”

“You tellin’ me it doesn’t sound like somethin’ he would do?”

“You’re not wrong there. Pádraig seems fine. He’s a bit nervous around Dutch but he does chores like feedin’ the chickens and the horses. He’s not _that_ bad. That Matthew fella though… He’s a piece of work.”

“I thought you couldn’t stand Pádraig ’cause of how he spoke to your sister?”

“I said he wasn’t that bad — I never said I liked the guy.”

“Fair enough. I can’t say that I blame him all that much for stayin’ with us. Matthew and Colm don’t want him and he’s got nowhere to go. It wouldn’t surprise me if they ran into him again and killed him… Well, after shootin’ him a few more times first. I can’t say that I know much about that feller though — he’s talked to you and Maebh a lot more than me.”

“I think it’s just ’cause we’re Irish and ’cause we were the first ones in the gang to talk to him, even if it was just to get information on Colm. She has a bit more time for him than I do, but at least he doesn’t irk me the same way Marston does.”

Arthur peered at him through a plume of smoke. “What’s your problem with John anyways?”

William’s response was completely deadpan. “He thinks he’s the dog’s bollocks when he is in fact _just_ a bollocks.”

“Well… I can’t really argue with you all that much.” He cast his eyes over camp, noting Pádraig walking nearby. “Speak of the devil.”

The younger man groaned. “It’s not Marston, is it?”

“No, it’s your second least favourite person in camp. Hey, O’Driscoll! C’mere a minute!”

Pádraig approached them uncertainly, wary after the few scuffles he’d already had with Williamson and the Callander Brothers. “I’m not an O’Driscoll, y’know.”

Without any hesitation, Arthur leapt to his feet, voice dropping to an intimidating degree. “What the hell did you say to me, boy?”

“I just said I’m not an O’Driscoll,” he replied in a more tentative tone, taking a slight step back. “I wasn’t startin’ anythin’, Mr. Morgan.”

“For your sake I hope so,” he growled before suddenly letting his facade slip and appearing more friendly. “Awh, I’m only jokin’ with you. Well, not really ’cause I will kill you if you do, but still. Come have a seat with us.”

Despite the quick shift in his demeanour, the man sat down at his insistence. William looked at him with obvious scrutiny. “If you’re not an O’Driscoll, then what are you?”

“My second name is Wilson, if that answers your question…”

“We was just talkin’ ’bout you, you see,” Arthur elaborated. “And I realised that I don’t know much about you excludin’ your proficient ability to get shot.”

He peered at them, wide eyed. “Uh, what do you want to know?”

Arthur shrugged. “Any hobbies?”

“You want to know if I’ve any _hobbies?”_

“Well, goddamn, boy. I’m just tryin’ to find out if you have any personality traits other than bein’ afraid we’ll kill you, but all you got is a chip on your shoulder!”

“I don’t have a chip on my shoulder,” he argued. “I’ve got a bloody gunshot scar on it. And I’m not afraid _you’s_ either—”

William rolled his eyes. “Well you should be…”

“Look, Colm and Matthew are way worse than you lot. I’d rather a lot of verbal abuse from you’s any day and most of you’s treat me well. I still owe Dutch for saving my life… _twice_.”

Arthur raised a brow at him. “We’re only needlin’ you for your attitude. Humour me, O'Driscoll. Answer the question — any hobbies?”

“Uh…” Pádraig ran a hand through his hair and pouted. “I do enjoy a bit of magic, I guess.”

“_Magic?”_ Arthur repeated with a grimace. “What, like doin’ tricks?”

“_Pádraig the Magnificent_ doesn’t really have a ring to it, does it?” William added.

The Northern Irishman rolled his eyes before reaching into his shirt pocket, pulling out a deck of cards, and fanning them out in his hand. “Look, just pick a card.”

“_Any_ card?”

“I’ll humour you,” Arthur mumbled before picking one from the deck. He looked between Pádraig and the king of hearts in his hand. “Now what?”

“Show it to William, just don’t let me see it. Then put it back anywhere you want in the pile.”

Arthur did as instructed and then watched as he thoroughly reshuffled the deck.

“Right,” he began. “I’m goin’ to start dealing out the cards into three piles. Pay attention to whatever pile your card shows up in.”

With the deck dished out into the three piles, Arthur pointed to the pile on the right. Then, Pádraig regrouped the piles back into the deck and repeated the process two more times, Arthur pointing to whatever pile he spotted his card in.

“Okay,” Pádraig began as he made up the deck again. “I’m goin’ to deal them out into three piles again and just sense which card is yours, alright? Here we go.”

The two men watched as he dealt the cards again until suddenly the king of hearts was placed on the table and Pádraig pointed at it. “I do believe that’s your card, Mr. Morgan.”

“Well what do you know,” Arthur snorted with little reaction. “That _is_ my card. Good trick, I guess.”

“A little borin’,” William agreed as he payed more attention to the cigarette between his lips. “But it was alright.”

“I’ve been workin’ on this new trick, actually,” Pádraig replied and suddenly snatched his cigarette. “Watch closely.”

“Hey—!”

Before either of them could argue, Arthur watched as the apparent magician put the lit cigarette into his mouth. He cringed as Pádraig steadied himself for a second before his face contorted into a pained expression. He coughed, holding his lips tightly closed, then spat it out of his mouth with a cry of pain. He spluttered and coughed while both members of the audience started to laugh. In a flash, Pádraig grabbed an open bottle of beer off the table and chugged its contents. Arthur continued to laugh in amusement before the brunette grabbed a match off the table and lit it in front of his mouth.

“What in the _hell_—”

Suddenly, a massive plume of fire blew out of his mouth and into the air above their heads. Arthur nearly fell out of his chair, gazing at the hot, bright flames in shock. They were gone in less than a second, leaving Pádraig standing there smiling in pride. Copper started barking excitedly, jumping up on the performer.

“Jesus Christ!” William exclaimed, staring at him in disbelief. 

“You crazy bastard,” Arthur said and pointed a finger at him, then started to clap in amazement. “I wasn’t expectin’ you to do _that_.”

“That was a lot less borin’ than your card trick.”

“What the hell is goin’ on over here?”

Arthur turned in his seat to see Maebh standing behind them in confusion.

“The O’Driscoll blows fire,” her brother replied happily. “He’s not completely useless after all.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I saw that much. I didn’t mean to interrupt the performance.”

“You okay?” Arthur asked her.

She sighed, held up a letter in her hand, and tossed it on to the table. “Dutch gave me and Marston a job in Sioux Falls. We got a tip off Pádraig’s favourite marksman.”

Arthur looked between her and the note before reading it aloud:

_Dear Mr. Van der Linde,_

_Mr. O’Driscoll was happy to hear that your affair in Montrose went _ _swimmingly__. He asked that I convene with you in the form of this letter with regards to some information we acquired on our travels. Those Foreman Brothers with whom you had your run in have taken up residence in Sioux Falls, terrorising a local poor community on the city’s outskirts. We can’t have them encroaching on our territory, now can we? Indeed this seems like the exact type of Robin Hood fantasy best suited for your gang, Mr. Van der Linde. It’s an opportunity to make money _ _and__new friends! You won’t have to worry about Anthony as he is busy mourning his cousin in a town closer to the state border._

_Regards,_

_Matthew_

_P.s. Do tell Mr. Hennigan that I hope he doesn’t lose that leg of his. How else will he chase off his sister’s suitors? _

Arthur grumbled and handed it to William. “Good to know he’s still creepy bastard.”

Pádraig frowned. “Which is exactly why I don’t miss him.”

“When do you leave?” William asked.

“In a couple days,” she replied. “We’ll probably be gone for more than a day but it shouldn’t take too long. We’re just goin’ up to talk to the locals and get the story.” 

“Realistically we can’t have them around,” Arthur agreed. “And they seem to have a habit of pickin’ on people in slums.”

“Yeah, and now we’ve to go do some reconnaissance. Can’t wait.”

Without another word, Maebh walked off, seemingly frustrated with the job she was hand picked for. Arthur watched her leave, even as William began to talk about how he wanted to go in her place. His gaze ran over her form, lingering on certain places and bringing with it a sense of guilt weighing down on his shoulders. Part of him still wished he lived in blissful ignorance of his longing.

* * *

** _20th July, 1894, outside Sioux Falls, South Dakota_ **

_Part of me thinks that Dutch knows about mine and Marston’s night at the saloon considering he hand-picked us both for this job in Sioux Falls. I know he doesn’t — in fact, no one in camp but William knows thankfully — but I can’t help but feel a tad paranoid. It doesn’t help that John is an awkward arse who can’t hold a conversation with me anymore without blushing, fidgeting, or saying something profoundly idiotic. I was hoping that we might have calmed a bit after he saved William, but it didn’t take long for me to start avoiding him again._

_And yet I did… because apparently that’s how I handle my problems now? Or how I make myself feel better when I feel like shite. Either way, I hope everything with this job goes smoothly so I can be in and out and back at camp without any hassle. I’m pretty sure that Marston wants the same thing given how _ _delighted__ he was upon finding out who his partner was for this task._

_Maybe we can go one day without annoying each other, although William says I’m a dope for even thinking that’s possible. Wishful thinking, I guess._

<strike> _And Arthur… Well, Arthur is another story altogether, and I’m beginning to find his presence at camp hard to manage. The very sight of him is a grating reminder that I’ll never_ </strike>

_Right, I don’t need to think about that. I already feel shite enough as it is._

* * *

Sioux Falls was a sight to behold. A bustling city with over ten thousand residents, it was one of the biggest cities she had seen in America. It grew fast with an economic boom before a grasshopper plague and the Panic of 1893 halted its growth. The economic depression meant job losses and with it people struggling to get by. Apparently, it was places like these that drew the Foreman Brothers — they liked to pray on those who were too weak to fight back. Their target on this occasion was a predominantly African-American community in Sioux Fall’s slums, and it’s where Maebh found herself now with John by her side. 

They met with Trelawny earlier that day who happily provided them with clothes that made them look less like country bumpkin and more like city dwellers. Nothing too extravagant — it mostly helped them blend in as two locals. A blouse, skirt, and red neckerchief for her, and a shirt, town pants, and duster coat for him. Josiah urged them to speak to a pastor in the church frequented by the residents of the slum. He was a pleasant man and was more than happy to let the two of them sit in on a service. Maebh had to admit, though she wasn’t overly religious, she enjoyed the sense of camaraderie within the congregation, as well as the people who made up the choir. Most of the ceremony was filled with energetic and moving songs, something she wished had been part of her upbringing when she attended mass back in Ireland.

Afterwards, the pastor — a Samuel Johnson — was more than happy to speak to them privately. They asked questions about an apparent local gang causing them trouble and he explained what he could in a hushed tone. They swung by a few weeks ago, claiming the money from the church as well as taxing locals in exchange for ‘protection’. In reality, the locals neither asked for it nor accepted it, but killings and threats of more was enough to shut their mouths. There was little they could do and the local police force refused to venture into the slums altogether, let only help the locals who resided within. Samuel was visibly troubled even when John suggested hiring guns for protection. He worried about more deaths that could be caused by such an action. It was only when they explained that they had a large group of friends who would be happy to drive the Foremans out of their city without any casualties that he calmed. Though Pastor Johnson requested that it be done peacefully if possible, he seemed to be interested by their proposition, insisting that if he accepted for their services, they would be paid accordingly. Though Maebh wasn’t particularly fond of taking whatever money the community had left, that was Dutch’s call and not hers, though she intended to speak to him about it at the next chance she got.

As they were leaving, he agreed to send them a letter to the fake name they gave once he thought on their offer. Maebh was fairly certain that he would accept the help and they intended on getting rid of those boys regardless.

That evening, Maebh found herself riding out of the city with Marston by her side, making their way back to camp while still saying very little to each other. On the outskirts of town, she noticed a pair of men up ahead, armed with repeaters and talking amongst themselves. She frowned as they were noticed, pointing to them and staring.

“Up ahead, Marston,” she said under her breath. “You see them?”

“I see them,” he confirmed. “Keep your gun ready.”

It only took a few more paces before they reached the men and the two of them walked out into the middle of the road. The one on the right was the first to call out. “Evenin’ folks!”

“Evenin’,” was the stern reply John gave him.

“This here is Foreman Brother territory. You gotta pay a toll to come through here.”

“A toll?”

Their antagoniser took on a sarcastic tone. “Yeah. It all goes back into the community.”

“Look, fellers, we’re headin’ home and we ain’t payin’ no toll.”

Immediately, the Foreman Brother readied his carbine. “Maybe I wasn’t clear before. You pay a toll, or we put a bullet into your lady friend there. Now get off your horses.”

“Get off the horses?”

“Are you deaf, mister? Or just dumb? Get off the horses!”

“I don’t think so.”

In a flash, Marston brandished his revolver and let loose on the man, taking him out with dangerous precision. In the commotion, Applejack reared up, neighing in fear as the calm night was shattered with gunfire. The second man was left to Maebh, who she only managed to take out after he unloaded two shots in the direction of the horse. Applejack stumbled before falling to the ground, John crashing down with him and letting out a loud grunt.

“John!” Maebh called, hopping off Dullahan and hurrying to his side. “Were you hit?”

“No — they hit the damn horse,” he heaved, getting to his feet with her assistance. He knelt next to his horse as his legs kicked, unable to get back up. There was visible panic in his eyes. “Shit, _shit_. You got a reviver?”

Maebh fetched him one from her saddlebag and watched anxiously as he treated the Thoroughbred. Kneeling down beside him, she noticing the animal relaxing as the medicine took effect. She placed a soft hand on his neck while John stroked his mane.

“You’re gonna be alright, boy,” John calmed him. “It’ll take more to stop you, Applejack.”

After a few minutes, the horse pulled himself shakily to his hooves, head held heavily as he struggled to walk.

“He’s not fit to go back to camp,” Maebh noted. “He needs to be seen by someone. We should bring him to the stables and they can help him get better.” Noticing John’s worried expression, she sighed and took her horse’s reins in hand. “Look, just follow me and we’ll lead him there. They can treat him, yeah?”

“Yeah,” John agreed, a little calmer. Gently leading Applejack along, he said. “Lead the way.”

The Sioux Falls stables weren’t far away and stable hand they met happily agreed to take the injured silver bay horse into his care, for a fair fee of course. He assured them that the stallion would be fine despite his injuries. The only issue was that he would have to keep Applejack for a few days so that he had ample time to rest and recover.

Now they had to return to Fulton — a six hour ride away — with just _one_ horse.

Maebh came to the conclusion that if there was a god floating about somewhere, he had a sick sense of humour.

“Look right,” she began outside the stables, pulling the reins of her horse and handing them to him. “There’s no way in hell I’m sittin’ in the front in case Little Marston comes to visit.”

John stared back at her, aghast. “What do you mean _little?”_

“Jesus, can we not get into… _that_ please?”

“But you didn’t have a problem with it before!”

Memories came flooding back and she hated him for it. “Shut your mouth. You weren’t as greasy then as you are right now, so just get on the fuckin’ horse.”

“What the _hell_ you mean greasy—”

“Oh, don’t even _pretend_ not to know, you absolute spa.”

“But you—!”

“Get. On. The. Damn. _Horse._” She stared John down until he reluctantly snatched Dullahan’s reins from her hands and pulled himself on to the saddle. Maebh rolled her eyes at his disgruntled expression and hopped on behind him. “Now, not one more word from you and keep those hands were I can see ’em, Tiny.”

“_Wha—?”_

“_Not_ one more word.”

* * *

Hours passed, the majority of their trip made in silence. They must have been less than a half hour from camp, travelling in the dark with the light of the moon guiding their way. They were trotting along the road when Maebh could feel Marston’s body tense even more than usual, considering he hadn’t relaxed for the entire return journey. He cleared his throat and she shook her head.

“Stop that.”

He scoffed. “Stop what, Hennigan?”

“Stop thinkin’ about it.”

“Wha— what do you mean? I ain’t doin’ nothin’!”

“You best stop thinkin’ ’bout it or I swear to God…”

“I ain’t—!”

“Awh sssshhhhh, for the love of _Jaysus_. I’ve had it up to here with you.”

He grumbled and couldn’t help himself. It seemed that they were simply destined to argue that night. “How do you even know what the hell I’m thinkin’ ’bout?”

“You get all tense; it’s really bloody obvious. But I don’t have the energy to deal with you _swoonin’_ over me and poppin’ a hard-on at the moment. It’s very inappropriate for our workin’ relationship. Unless you’re also extendin’ the same gratitudes towards Williamson, then I don’t particularly enjoy this special treatment of yours. We really don’t want the group feelin’ left out, do we, John? It’s unfair. We should all be sufferin’ together!”

“… Did you just say _suffering?”_

“I know William gets cold at night. Why don’t you give him a little spoon next time he’s sleepin’? I can’t say whether he’d like it or not, but we’re a package deal. If you wanna do it again, you gotta spoon him first, without him givin’ you a broken nose, of course.”

“Why do you two keep threatenin’ to punch me?”

“You’ve got a remarkably punchable face, Marston. I’m amazed it isn’t all scarred to bits already. Can you imagine what you’d look like with some nasty scars on your face? Jaysus, and here was me thinkin’ you couldn’t get any uglier.”

“I think a couple scars might add to my rugged good looks.”

There was a brief silence where she glared at the back of his head. “… Jesus. Never have children. God help them inheritin’ your looks _and_ havin’ you as a da.”

“Oh, and you think _you’ll_ be a good mother? Good luck to those kids if they have to listen to the shit that pours outta your mouth.”

Tempers slowly flared, anger and frustrations finally reaching their limit.

Insults were flying, Maebh absolutely losing all patience with him and John evidently feeling the same way about her. She couldn’t help it; weeks of frustration about their relationship and the one she wished she could have with Arthur had her seeing red. She was sick of him and _everyone_ for that matter.

Finally, she snapped. “I wonder if you stare even _harder_ at Abigail eventually she’ll look back.”

Without missing a beat, John growled. “Yeah, and maybe Arthur will accidentally look in your direction one of these days.”

Silence. Immediate silence from both of them bar the rhythmic clip-clip of Dullahan’s hooves in the dirt. Whatever rage she felt dissipated into embarrassment and shame when she realised the truth behind his words and the harshness of her own.

The closer they got to camp, the more anxious she became. She had no idea why, but with John’s fresh insult and her swirling thoughts, she was terrified to lay eyes on Arthur.She feared that her agitation might boil over at the sight of him. She desperately wanted the ground to swallow her up. Just thinking about it sent her heart racing with panic. 

_I can’t do this…_

“Stop for a minute,” she announced abruptly after the lengthly and deafening silence. “Hold on.”

“What’s the matter now?” John snapped, though he slowly brought Dullahan to a halt.

Once the horse was stationary, Maebh jumped from her back and landed smoothly on the ground below. They were only a few minutes from camp, trailing along the creek that would lead them back home. She could just about see the lights from camp if she looked hard enough.

“What’re you doin’, Maebh?”

“Get off the horse,” she replied, staring up at him. “C’mon.”

He narrowed his eyes in obvious frustration. “Wha— _Why?”_

“’Cause I said so.”

Perhaps he was too fed up with her to argue anymore, but he hoisted himself off the saddle and stood next to her. “What is it now?”

Without answering him, she took the reins and led Dullahan over to the thick mass of trees that ran along the creek. She quickly found a branch and hitched the horse there so she wouldn’t bolt. She moved off to the side, still somewhat hidden in the trees, and dug her nails into her palms.

“What the hell are you playin’ at?” John demanded, stomping over to meet her in the undergrowth. When she didn’t answer, barely looking at him, he continued ranting. “What the hell is your problem with me, anyhow? Why do you always act like this? All you’ve done since Mitchell is ignore me like I don’t mean shit to you. I help bring your goddamn brother back and _still_ you won’t even look at me when we ain’t workin’! I don’t need this shit, y’know. I got enough on my plate!”

Running a shaking hand through her hair, Maebh cursed under her breath and turned to stand right in front of him. “Wouldja just _shut up_ and kiss me?”

John’s brown eyes went wide and blinked several times before narrowing again. “_What?”_

She felt like an idiot, but still less of an idiot than how she would feel when she finally laid eyes on Arthur. “D’you need me to kiss you or somethin’?”

John’s brow furrowed but he didn’t move from his spot before her, their chests only inches apart. “But… why?”

“I just… I don’t know. I need it, alright?” She sighed. “Our shoutin’ match didn’t make me feel great about myself but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just want to feel somethin’ good for once.”

She finally met his gaze after avoiding looking in his curious eyes for the longest time, and John returned the gesture by cupping her cheeks in his rough hands and crashing his lips against hers. She let out a gasp having been half convinced he would reject her, but as his tongue forced its way into her mouth and their teeth clashed in hurried movements, Maebh welcomed the distraction of his hands grabbing at her flesh.

He moaned unabashedly into her mouth as his hand slipped down to grab at her ass, grasping hard and sure to leave a mark. The contact stung in the most wonderful way, and she wasted no time in pushing his duster off his shoulders.

As their lips separated for a moment, John growled. “You drive me mad, woman. But _goddamn_…” He trailed off and threw his coat on the grassy ground below. The look he gave her was invitation enough. She settled on to the discarded garment and pulled him down on top of her into another feverish kiss. He seemed just as desperate and eager, and somehow she felt a little less like a fool; he wanted her and that was enough. Their kisses were rough and sloppy, though she didn’t care; she was too overcome with the need for skin on skin and the pleasure that came with their affair. She was sure he felt the same. He fixed himself between he spread legs, harshly grinding his tenting pants against her. The contact sent shivers down her spine and arousal exactly where she needed it. Ardent for things to move quicker, she blindly began to shove his suspenders off his shoulders and unbuttoned his faded shirt. The feeling of his hands beginning to undo her blouse was a welcome one. Air suddenly touched her breasts as he yanked down her undergarments to reveal her naked chest.

“_Christ…_” He pulled back to look at her, pupils blown wide in their passion. Without hesitation, he wrenched his shirt over his head and let it fall to the forest floor.

Maebh suddenly realised she hadn’t gotten the chance to see John’s naked torso in such an intimate space before, and she couldn’t help but reach a hand up to brush against his abdomen, littered with small scars from shoot outs and ‘unfortunate knife incidents’ as he called them. He seemed to relish the contact as his chest heaved up and down. Without warning, she clutched at the bulge in his pants. He hissed out a curse, and then a louder one when her hand found its way inside and grasped him tight. He was hot and hard to touch. She slowly pumped him, impatient and yearning to feel him inside her again. Sensing the urgency, he shoved a hand up her skirts and began to frantically rub between her legs, pinpointing the exact spot that had her gasping. His hands moved with the knowledge of someone who had had many working women in his short life. It suddenly dawned on her that he was also going off his own experiences with _her_. The awakening was a rude one, even though he continued to eagerly coax her to crying out his name with each frantic circle of his fingers.

He leaned over her, capturing her lips in his again with a rough gasp. With her eyes shut, she found it easier to forget that it was her friend John that hovered above her. Hazy images of Arthur slowly came into her mind, growing more vivid as she became more aroused. Perhaps it was the images themselves that pushed her into such a wanton state. Rough lips moved to her neck, bypassing the neckerchief and harshly biting at the sensitive skin above her collar bone, then skimming down to kiss her breasts. Her eyes squeezed shut while Arthur appeared behind her lids with that smirk that always sent her reeling. She very nearly called his name as her hands slid into John’s hair. She had had enough. She needed this _now_.

Her shaking hands grasped the edges of his trousers and shoved them down. It gave him just enough room to work, and he took the queue to quickly shove her skirts higher above her waist. With heavy breaths, he reefed her pants down her legs and threw them on top of his shirt. He let out a heavy groan, and moved in between her legs. The distinct rasp in his voice caused her to tense, the image of the man she truly wanted to take her like this vanishing from her mind. A hand on his chest caused her friend to halt in his movements.

“What?” he asked, voice hushed on the night air. “You alright?”

She nodded slowly, getting her breath back and looking up into his curious eyes. There was a vulnerability there that she had only seen once before during their drunken escapade. It sent shivers through her, and she pondered what _he_ could see in her own gaze.

With a gulp, she swiftly rolled on to her stomach while John propped himself up with arms either side of her head. She said nothing, and though his heavy breaths could be heard from above her, he too never said a word. Instead, he slowly slipped between her thighs and guided himself inside her.

The sensation caused her to moan, the familiar burn and stretch leaving her a trembling mess. And still he kept pushing until his entire length was inside her and his hips pressed flush against her rear. The groan that escaped him was one so rumbling it sent shivers through her body. With one arm resting on the ground and the other firmly holding her hip, he started to pump; long, deep strokes that caused the heat inside her to come alive. The change in position had him reaching further inside her than before and she had to work hard to control the moans escaping her lips with each forceful movement. John huffed above her, his breath running along the back of her neck and giving her goosebumps. His lips bit at the sensitive skin, eager to leave marks in hidden places.

When she could feel her muscles starting to flutter as she got closer and closer to finishing, John pressed himself flush against her back and his arm on the ground reached over to lightly wrap around the front of her neck.

“You still ain’t thinkin’ ’bout me?” he growled into her ear, voice rough like sand on her skin.

Unabashedly, she managed to breath out. “No, I’m not.”

His fingers flexed against her throat, carefully adding the slightest amount of pressureand claiming a large amount of control as he slowed his hips. “Why ain’t I surprised?”

Suddenly he released his hold on her and pulled out altogether. She couldn’t help the frustrated whimper that escaped her before she was rolled on to her back. John stared down at her through hooded lids as he fixed himself between her legs again and slipped back inside her heat. Her throat felt dry as a desperate cry left her, lips parted and taking in hefty breaths. Her nails dug into the muscled flesh of his back and scratched his skin. John worked her yet again, thrusting deep and relishing in her reaction. He kissed her hard and then pulled her bottom lip between his teeth.

“You ain’t gonna think of him,” he murmured. “Not while I’m fuckin’ you. You’re gonna _look_ at _me_. You hear me?”

She nodded, eager to pacify him for the sake of an orgasm.

He pressed his forehead against hers. “I ain’t sure you do. I wanna hear you say my name when you come, darlin’.”

Trying to ignore his commands, she pulled him into a passionate kiss, bucking her hips back up against his for further friction. When their lips eventually parted, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and buried his face into the crook of her neck.

“Bite me,” he groaned into her ear. “_C’mon_, I know you have it in ya, missy. Bite me hard.”

Willing to do at least that, she took small sections of the skin on his neck between her teeth, lightly nipping and sucking. He urged her on until she took larger bites that had him whimpering until his own teeth left marks on her collar bones.

“You close?” he asked and all she could do was nod as her heart pounded in her chest. “Then say it, Maebh. C’mon now, _that’s_ it.”

She felt one of his hands slither between her legs, wet fingers working right above where they were connected. He had her seeing stars, eyes squeezing shut as pleasure consumed her. With a breathless moan of his name she came, the heat and satisfaction flooding her whole body as he too lost himself to the sensation, pushing his hips flush against hers as he twitched inside her. 

His lips formed her name, tired and content as he filled her up. “Christ, _Maebh_…”

She wasn’t sure how long they lay clutching each other as the waves of their release eased until they disappeared, hearts calming and breaths steadying. Only when her clouded thoughts became coherent did she notice the wetness between her legs and her eyes slowly opened. With a hand on his shoulder, she pushed him up a bit until he slipped out of her. As if realising what he had just done, he looked back at her with a nervous expression.

“Shit,” he breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling with effort. “I’m sorry, I forgot…”

“Jaysus, John,” she muttered, barely even arsed to argue with him considering how worn out she was. “This isn’t like forgettin’ somethin’ off a bloody _shoppin’ list—_”

“I know,” he assured her, slowly pulling back and looking at her with a dopey but guilty grin. “I was sorta distracted.”

John was staring between her legs, transfixed with what he saw. Feeling her cheeks flush, she shut her legs in an attempt to ease her shame welling in her gut. When he noticed her discomfort he immediately apologised and wiped her clean with a cloth from his pants pocket. The movement seemed so natural to him that all she could to was lay there in disbelief before hurriedly dressing again.

He eyed her curiously as he too pulled his clothes back on. “So uh, guess I didn’t need to spoon Willie then…”

“Oh, shut up.” She cast a glance at him, then another when she noticed a red mark on his neck. “Bollocks.”

“You okay?”

“I bit you too hard and there’s a mark.”

He seemed a bit surprised and uncaring with the revelation, but Maebh took matters into her own hands. She took her collar-like neckerchief off and then pulled it over his head, fixing the red material securely around his neck to cover the bruise. “There.”

Though he offered her his thanks, she said nothing as she waited for him beside Dullahan and the pair of them rode into camp in yet another silence.

Maebh threw whatever greetings her friends made at her right back as curtly as she could. She was relieved to see the shutters to Dutch’s tent shut, signalling his departure to bed.

She briskly marched to her tent, seeing her brother sitting on his bedroll and flicking through a book in the dim light.

He looked up upon her arrival and, before she could get a word in edgeways, spoke in Irish. “You rode Marston, didn’t you?”

She stood there, staring back at him with lips parted while he remained visibly calm. “How did you know?”

He shut the book and gestured to her hair. “It needs a brush.”

Unable to help herself, her bottom lip quivered and she felt her eyes beginning to fill with tears. William acted swiftly, getting up and quickly shutting their tent off to the outside world by closing over the flap. Finally alone, she began to cry, but was relieved to feel his arms wrap around her tightly. She accepted the hug, only now realising how badly she needed it and allowed him to usher her to sit on her bedroll.

“Tell me what happened,” he suggested as he planted himself beside her and picked up her hairbrush. “Only if you want’a or need someone to talk to. I’m here. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No, no, of course he didn’t.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and brought them flush against her chest, the ache between her thighs throbbing at the movement. The soothing motion of his hands gently brushing out the knots in her hair offered some sort of distraction from the poor choices she was making. “I dunno, we got into an argument like always and we said some pretty… nasty things ’bout what’s goin’ on with Arthur and Abigail. I don’t know why I did it, but I couldn’t walk in here and see Arthur after what John said it me. It’s not his fault, but I felt ashamed and weak and… helpless. I just wanted to feel _somethin’_, and it didn’t matter if it was with Marston.”

He continued brushing away, unperturbed by her confession. “I understand. While I still insist you can do far better than him, I understand why you needed a distraction. I’m sure he felt the same considerin’ he stares at Abigail even more than you stare at Arthur.”

“I’m just a bit more subtle,” she offered with a sad laugh. “But apparently we’re two class acts at makin’ a mess of things.”

“Sounds pretty human to me. We all do dumb shite goin’ through life. You learn form your mistakes, so stop bein’ so hard on yourself. I would advise you to cut him loose while you can though. I don’t see this endin’ very well.”

Outside, laughter rose up from around the campfire. John’s wheeze was quite distinctive above the rest of them. Almost instantly, Maebh felt her brother tense.

As he rose to his feet, she went to protest, but he quickly hushed her. “Stay here, alright?”

“William—”

“I need’ta take care of somethin’, wait here.”

He almost leapt out of the tent — even with his injured leg — and she could only watch apprehensively as he limped over to the campfire where several of the gang members sat, including John and Arthur. Along the way, he grabbed a beer bottle from a nearby crate and popped it open. “Fancy a drink, Marston?”

Before John could answer, William held the bottle above his head and soaked him with its contents. As John let out a yell of disgust, Bill burst out laughing and Arthur looked mildly amused with the interaction. Maebh stormed over to them as John got to his feet. “What the hell—?”

Before any further words could leave his mouth, William forcefully swung his arm and caught John right in the cheek with a clenched fist. Around the campfire, the gang was shocked by the sudden display and Arthur hastily stood and placed a hand on the Irishman’s chest. “Hey, easy up there!”

Despite the older man’s intervening, William made no moves to punch John again. Instead, he flexed his fingers and glared as the latter clutched at his soon to be swollen cheek. “Jaysus, it’s like punchin’ an oil slick.”

John went to stand, but Arthur intervened and held him down before things could escalate. “Stay down…”

Maebh quickly reached William’s side and wrapped a hand around his arm. “Enough of that, c’mon.”

She met Arthur’s gaze, who nodded in encouragement that she take her brother away while he deal with the wounded John. Without another word, she ushered her younger sibling back to the safety of the tent while Marston was left uncharacteristically quiet as he nursed his stinging cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn this is the Western equivalent of "...AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED".


	22. The Tears of the World Are A Constant Supply

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pastor calls for aid, Arthur realises he's out of his depth, and Maebh & John make some apologies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howiyas. Hope yis are well! I wanted to thank you's for the support on this fic of late. I can't believe we're on the verge of reaching 2k hits. That's crazy but awesome, so thanks for the support! I've also been thoroughly enjoying the discussion in the comments with regards the mess our favourite cowboys and cowgals are making. I promise they're trying their best. Trust me with the endgame here, fellas - I've got you, it's merely the slowest of burns ;) Just remember to keep an eye on those dates though... Enjoy another chapter!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Heart of Darkness” — Benjamin James, “Sounds Like Balloons” — Biffy Clyro, “Favourite Boy” — Half Moon Run, “To Be Alone” — Hozier

A week after John and Maebh made contact with the pastor in Sioux Falls, a letter arrived that had Dutch assembling a team from his tent.

“Arthur, come look at this!”

Arthur was more than happy to answer Dutch’s call as he gathered Maebh, John, Karen, and Davey as well. Once the team had together, Dutch held up a letter in his hand with delight. 

“John, Maebh,” Dutch began, wearing a rather satisfied smile. “You have _done it again!”_

The two of them stood before him, wide eyed and stammering.

“_What?”_

“We, uh—”

“That’s not—”

“We didn’t _really_—”

Arthur looked between them in confusion, their voices speaking over each other and making little sense. Noticing the confused stares they were getting, they suddenly shut their mouths and Maebh spoke up. “What did we do?”

“The job in Sioux Falls — the pastor wants our help.”

“_Oh!”_ she exclaimed, letting out a sigh. “Oh yeah, right. Of course.”

“That’s… great,” John added, smiling. “Real great.”

Swiftly moving on, Dutch took a seat. “It seems that you made an impression on him ’cause he is more than willin’ to accept our services for some guns for hire.”

Arthur was offered the letter and ran his eyes over its contents, noting the desperation this Pastor Samuel Johnson displayed in his words and his willingness to pay for their help. “He’s payin’?”

“Apparently he’s happy to.”

“Actually, Dutch?” Maebh began quietly. “I’ve been meanin’ to ask you about that. When me and Marston went up there, we saw how bad of a state that community is in. They’re strugglin’ to get by enough as it is and these Foremans are makin’ things even worse for them. I was wonderin’ whether we’d be better off doin’ this job without payment?”

“For _free?”_ John elaborated, looking unimpressed.

“It’s not like they have much to offer anyway,” she argued. “Look, we’re not in the worst place since we did the bank job in Watertown. We don’t need the money right now.”

“Sounds like you’re goin’ a little soft,” Karen noted with a chuckle. “Money is money.”

Arthur noticed the look of displeasure on Marston’s face as well as the skepticism on Davey’s. He spoke up then, holding his belt buckle in his hands. “Miss Hennigan makes a good point, Dutch. I get that we like workin’ for money, but if these folks are as bad as she says then maybe this comes under our charitable donations. Surely our concerns right now are with gettin’ rid of those Foremans so we can keep workin’ uninhibited?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Maebh giving him an appreciative smile and he tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks.

“A very fair point,” Dutch agreed after a long pause, looking between the pair of them. “Trust you two to think of those less fortunate.”

Maebh shrugged slightly. “We learned from the best.”

“My girl, you flatter me. But I can’t help but agree with your point. That pastor is merely lookin’ to protect his flock while we can get another gang away from land we’re already workin’. They don’t lose any money and we take back control of this part of South Dakota — everyone wins. A fine idea, truly.”

Davey raised a hand. “I ain’t really pushed on the money, but does this mean I still get to shoot some fellers?”

“Not necessarily,” Dutch explained, taking back the letter. “Pastor Johnson has requested that this is handled without any casualties if possible. We have to respect his wishes and try ensure that there is no unnecessary killin’ on this job.”

“That’s sorta my go-to,” Davey replied. “How else do we get rid of them?”

Dutch smirked. “By scarin’ the livin’ shit out of them, I would imagine. Don’t you boys like to get creative or is that more Miss Jones’ idea of fun? Accordin’ to the pastor, these Foreman boys are hold up in the city but there ain’t that many of them. Anthony is already workin’ across the border with most of his men. He figured what he left was enough to keep the locals in line.”

“I do love a bit of creativity,” Karen agreed. “So what, we go in there and convince these boys that there’s a new gang in town?”

“That’s what I’m thinkin’. Go to where they’re holed up, then move them somewhere else and sweat them out a little — let them know that if they dare to step foot in Sioux Falls again then there’ll be consequences.”

“It might be best to conceal our identities then,” Arthur added, stroking a hand along his beard. “Pretend we’re some… psycho killers they don’t wanna mess with.”

“Act like a bunch of sick bastards and scare these guys half to death?” Davey clapped his hands together. “I’m sure as hell in.”

Karen was visibly excited, the sight of which caused Arthur to smirk. “Damn, boys. Looks like we’re in for an interestin’ time. When do we head out?”

“As soon as,” Dutch confirmed. “Have somethin’ to eat and head out in the hour. That should get you to the city before dark.”

They all began to clear off at that, but Arthur hesitated when he was called back to the tent. Once alone, Dutch looked at him with concern. “Are you sure you’re ready for this job, son?”

Arthur appreciated his concern and certainly understood where it was coming from. “Yeah, I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t ready, Dutch.”

“No, I know that.” The older man got to his feet and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’m just lookin’ out for you after everythin’ that happened. I think you’ve got a good team goin’ with you at least.”

“I feel a little better knowin’ who I’m goin’ with,” he agreed. “It certainly makes it easier. It’s just a shame that neither you or Hosea can join me.”

Dutch frowned. “I know. Unfortunately, Hosea isn’t where you are just yet. I ain’t comfortable with both of us bein’ away from him. At least me and Annabelle can keep an eye on him while you’re gone.”

“Good. I’ll get myself ready then and see you when we’re back.”

They did exactly as Dutch ordered, grabbing some food before readying their horses and moving out. Marston, who planned to collect Applejack from the Sioux Falls stables, rode atop the back of Boadicea with Arthur and they discussed their options together along the way. Arthur admitted that though this was his first real job since what happened to his family, he was in a way relieved to have some normalcy back. He was nervous sure, but also eager to show that he wasn’t a total liability.

After much discussion over plans, a method was settled upon wherein they would keep an eye on the gang’s hideout, gain entry through a hostage, then capture the rest of the gang members and bring them to the railroad for a bout of creative interrogation. All of course while seeming mostly psychotic. Thanks to the pastor’s letter, they knew the Foremans were hold up beside Falls Park on the northern side of the city, relatively close to the train tracks so that they could hatch their plan perfectly. 

It was nighttime when they arrived at their destination. Having collected Applejack on the way, the five of them left their horses hitched along the road where the abandoned building lay. According to Pastor Johnson, the locals only ever saw Foreman Brothers wandering in and out of it most days and hearing loud parties going on most nights as they drank themselves stupid. Upon arriving and hearing the music and laughter, it seemed like they were doing exactly that. It was half the reason why they were striking at this hour. In the darkness, Arthur asked Maebh to join him while he took up a scouting spot across the street, then set Karen and Davey on the opposite side, and John around the corner. With all spots covered, they waited for a Foreman to approach the door and give them their in. Was he a little biased in how he organised the group? Most definitely. Did he feel at all guilty when he relaxed in her presence? Not even a little bit.

As they waited patiently, Maebh seemed to want to fill the comfortable silence. “How does it feel to be back at it?”

He briefly took his eyes off the building to look at her. They were currently sat on a bench, passing some canned peaches between them and appearing as casual as they could. She handed him the can as he searched for an answer. “Good, I think. It almost makes it seem like things are back to normal.”

“I’m sure,” she concurred thoughtfully, munching on the fruit. “I’ve— well, we’ve _all_ missed you out on jobs.”

“Miss Hennigan,” he began in a teasing tone. “Did I just hear you say that you missed me out in the field?”

She shrugged. “Maybe, Mr. Morgan. Although I thought I should reiterate that we _all_ missed you. That way your ego gets an even bigger boost.”

“I think you might be flatterin’ me.”

“Not entirely! You not bein’ ’round is quite noticeable and you do a better job of keepin’ the boys in line than I do.”

“That ain’t totally true,” he countered, biting on a fruit slice and enjoying the sweetness of the snack. “You can hold your own with them too. William listens to me sure, but he’s a lot more inclined to do whatever you ask of him. Marston too.”

He noticed her shaking her head. “Me and John make a good team sure, but he looks up to you, y’know. You’re his big brother after all.”

“Maybe you’re right. Though that boy has a mind of his own a lot of the time.” He paused, contemplating his words as he eyes wandered over the building’s facade. “Well, I guess it’s nice to know you all don’t think I’m completely hopeless.”

A silence hung in the air and he turned to find Maebh looking back at him with her lips drawn tightly together. “What makes you think we’d say you’re hopeless?”

“The last time I went out on an important job, I didn’t exactly make myself seem reliable, did I? I nearly killed a man.”

“Look,” she began, hushing him gently as he felt the agitation welling inside at the memory. “We’ve talked about what happened with the bank manager and we both agreed it shouldn’t’ve happened. But that’s water under the bridge. You’ve had time to feel more sure of yourself and your control. You wouldn’t’ve come out here tonight if you didn’t think you could do it and Dutch wouldn’t have let you lead us either. Do you remember last year when we robbed the bank in Winterset? You told me that everyone messes up at some point on these jobs. After what you went through, Arthur, you were bound to snap at some point. I think it was unavoidable. We’ve all messed up, whether it was influenced by our emotions or otherwise. Do you think anyone in camp would judge you or think you’re a liability after what happened?” When he didn’t answer, she continued on. “You’re one of the hardest workers we have and if there was anyone I’d want with me on a job, it would be Arthur Morgan.”

Feeling colour rush to his cheeks, he nodded slowly and stared down at the floor. “You’re startin’ to sound a little foolish there again.”

“I’m just tellin’ you to listen to your own bloody advice,” she countered. “Are you goin’ t’tell me that the same advice you gave me is foolish?”

Holding out the can to her, he accepted defeat. “You got me there. Do you really mean that?”

“Wantin’ you around on a job? Of course I mean it. I always trust you to have my back and I have yours too.”

Something about her admittance caused his heart to thump and a little quiver to form in his throat. He swallowed, her words swirling around his thoughts like water as it was pulled down a drain. He could kick himself for being so affected by her words, for allowing himself to feel comforted by the assurance that she had his back. He had been so unsure of himself, fully convinced that he could possibly mess this all up for them like Watertown. The weight behind the statement alone gave him a small amount of self confidence he had been searching for. If only he had the damn words to express his gratitude, or the courage to say that he felt far more sure of himself when she was with him. He met her gaze and it almost frightened him how badly he wanted to kiss her in that moment. This woman, if only she knew how crazy she made him and how he couldn’t stop imagining how her lips would taste. If he wasn’t so sure she would rebuke him, perhaps he would risk it. 

As his thoughts ran wild, she reached into the can and pulled out a peach to eat. He had never been so jealous of a fruit in his life.

_God, first Marston and now a damn _peach_. Get a hold of yourself, you fool._

The sound of Maebh calling his name in a hushed whisper cut through his thoughts. She nodded to where Davey and Karen stood hidden in a dimly lit alleyway. Davey was sending them a subtly signal with a wave of his hand, letting them know that they spotted who he pursued was a Foreman Brother coming around the bend.

“I think they’ve spotted one,” she explained, taking a large bite out of the fruit and then tossing it in a bin. “What do we do?”

Arthur leaned back in the bench, catching Marston’s eye around the other corner and subtly raising one finger to him. Message received, John moved up until he could peer around the building. Down the street, a man rounded the opposite corner. From what he had been told by Tilly, he seemed to be dressed in similar attire to that of the Foremans. He looked the abandoned building up and down as he confidently approached its door and that was the only sign Arthur needed. On his signal, everyone was covering their faces and moving.

Marston reached him first, viscously pulling the unsuspecting man into a chokehold. He had barely gotten a word out before he was forced into silence with a colourful threat of cutting his tongue out. Davey and Karen joined them, guns drawn and pointed at the man’s face as he slowly began to realise the severity of the situation. Arthur and Maebh made sure to stare him down with every ounce of hate they could muster. He was very thankful that the music from above would drown out some of their tactics. Arthur grabbed one of his arms as Karen grabbed the other, effectively subduing the Foreman.

“Where you headed, mister?” he growled, eyes wild. “A party?”

Though the target tried to sound threatening, the tremble in his voice as John put pressure on his neck was audible to them all. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“You gettin’ smart with me, boy?”

“You got a death wish, you little shit?” John added, shaking him harshly. “Is that what you want?”

Any concerned passersby paid them no mind, instead hurrying in the opposite direction once they realise it was a Foreman Brother who was in trouble.

Karen addressed him then, Davey by her side and now openly brandishing a knife. “Why don’t you give our friend her an excuse to spill your guts all over the damn pavement.”

“Please do,” Davey insisted as Maebh pulled up the man’s shirt to reveal his bare belly. “Better yet, how ’bout I slice your goddamn balls in half before I see what your guts look like? That should shut you up.”

The man’s eyes became frantic. “_What?_ Wait a minute—”

“Get his belt open,” Arthur encouraged Maebh, enjoying how he squirmed. “It’s been a little while since he’s gotten to chop a feller’s balls off.”

“No!” the man begged even as Maebh worked on the buckle. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want just leave my balls alone!”

“Then you best start listenin’ to us,” Arthur snarled in response, grabbing his chin. “You hear me?” The man nodded and that was good enough for Arthur. “That’s more like it.”

He gave Davey a wink and though he was visibly disappointed, he sheathed his knife without argument.

“What do you want from me?”

“To get into your little party,” Maebh stated. “So either you go up to that door and act like nothin’ is amiss, or we let our mate here have some quality time with your balls. How ’bout that?”

The man didn’t argue, not if it meant losing his manhood. He stood at the door shakily as they trained their guns on him out of view from the sliding hatch. His buddy let him in, unlocking the door before turning away to rejoin the festivities upstairs. With his back turned Arthur moved up behind him and choked him out before anything else could be said. Maebh happily pistol-whipped their hostage into unconsciousness and they got to work.

Arthur lead the way inside, shotgun drawn and ready. Up the creaky flight of stairs and through an open door, he saw the remaining four members of the gang, drinking and laughing as they played a game of poker. Smirking beneath his bandana, he announced himself by cocking the gun and aiming it at their heads. They stared back at him in shock, not even bothering to reach for any weapons.

“Hands up, fellers,” he ordered as his companions swarmed in behind him. “No sudden moves or you’ll lose your head, that clear?”

Outnumbered and outsmarted, the Foremans were disarmed, hogtied, and blindfolded by their attackers. Left with little option and caught entirely off-guard, the plan was going surprisingly smoothly. It was then that they began rooting through the belongings in the building and Karen made a startling discovery.

“You better come get a look at this, boys,” she yelled as she peered into a chest.

Arthur and Davey were beside her in an instant and the latter was the first to speak. “What did you find?”

Arthur could only stare as Karen held up stacks of dollar bills. “There must be a couple hundred in here. Maybe a little more.”

“They must’ve been flushin’ these people for all they’re worth,” Arthur murmured as he counted a stack. “Bring it with us and we can figure out what to do with is later.”

Karen was only too happy to comply. “Yes, sir!”

With their captives gathered on their horses, they set off northwards to the train tracks, cheering and taunting the hostages as they went. Tensions rose as they demanded to be told where they were all going. Some pled for their lives, already assuming the worst. Arthur and his companions paid them little mind, discussing the inhumane things they could do to scare the living daylights out of them as much as possible. By the end of the short journey, the men were confused and dazed, some terrified and others combative. On the outskirts of the city on a small incline lay the railroad. They tossed the hogtied Foreman Brothers on the tracks with a laugh, joking between them as their jeers veered into psychotic territory.

“Are you ready to see this lot go splat, fellers?” Karen asked in delight.

“I bet it’ll take them weeks to clean them off the tracks,” Davey agreed, tossing the last man down. “You ever seen how they just explode when they get hit? It’s crazy!”

“Blindfolds off, fellers,” Arthur announced as he removed the piece of cloth covering the first man’s eyes. The others followed suit while he turned to John then and asked. “How much time they got left?”

Though his words had set the captives into a state of confused panic, John checked his pocket watch and excitedly replied. “I’d say about seven minutes or so. Nothin’ more.”

“Perfect!” Arthur organised his friends into a line along the track while he took a few steps in front of them. He walked up and down the track while his victims squirmed, slowly realising what exactly was in store for them. The unconscious men awoke to an unsettling sight and were instantly panicking. He realised that now was his moment to scare them into submission, to convince them to leave Sioux Falls or die and he had to stay in control of himself. He didn’t want a repeat of Watertown and the exploited locals couldn’t afford for him to mess up. He cast a glance at Maebh who was watching him closely. Though her eyes were only visible beneath the brim of her stalker, she seemed to be smiling encouragingly as she nodded for him to get to work. Turning his attention back to those hogtied on the tracks, he raised his voice.

“Now, boys. You seem to have found yourselves in quite the situation, ain’t you? A bit of a—” He grabbed one of the men by the hair, pulling his head up to glare into his eyes before moving on again. “—_pickle_, you might say.”

“What the hell do you want from us?” one of them demanded, earning himself a swift kick to the gut with Arthur’s steel-toed boot.

“Listen, friend, I would advise that you keep your mouth shut while I talk, because you got about—” He turned to John expectantly.

The younger man checked his watch. “Five minutes.”

“—_five minutes_ before the 9 o’clock train to Minneapolis swings by and leaves a mess for the conductors to clean up. So what you’re gonna do is shut the hell up and listen to me or you can try your luck with the damn train, alright?” He was met with silence and grinned deviously. “Good, y’all ain’t total morons then. Now let me explain what’s gonna happen here. You Foreman boys didn’t realise that this here city you so rudely imposed on is ours. Not yours, not the Foreman’s; _ours_. And here’s the thing, we _really_ don’t like sharin’ ’cause our mommas didn’t raise us right. If it was just you six boys then we would’ve killed the lot of you already, but we know your boss, Mr. Anthony Foreman is hold up across the border and I need you to reiterate my point.”

He continued to walk up and down the line and pulled out a hunting knife as some of them pulled desperately on their restraints. “What I want you to get through your thick skulls is that this city ain’t worth it. You’re pickin’ on the poor bastards who ain’t got anythin’ else to give and imagine how we felt comin’ back into town to see some bunch of simpletons or — better yet— a bunch of parasites hold up in our spot.”

“Not good,” Davey agreed from the sidelines. “Not good at all.”

“_Not good_,” Arthur repeated, emphasising the words as he squatted down next to one of the captives and pulled his head up by the hair again. “So we’re givin’ you two choices. The right choice is that you agree to leave, run off back to the rest of your gang and never return to this city, and the wrong choice is disagreeing with my requirements and you get left on the train tracks until your severed foot and intestines end up in Minneapolis. The boys here are kinda hopin’ you pick the wrong choice, considerin’ they love it when the bodies explode.”

“The pot-bellied one is gonna be a sight to see,” John agreed with a laugh. “I bet he’ll lose his head before any of the others! Y’all got three minutes before the real party starts.”

As if on queue, the sound of the train horn blared in the distance and the gang began to cheer on the its arrival. On the tracks, the Foremans went into a state of panic and one of them spoke above the throng. “Jesus Christ, mister! We’ll do whatever the hell you want, just get us off these tracks! _Please!”_

Arthur approached him immediately, looking down at him in disgust. He felt the rage boiling in his chest, the familiar urge to choke the life out of him flaring slightly as he thought about what he did to the poor folks in the city. He held back, thinking of what little it would achieve rather than sating his own anger. In his mind’s eye, he could see the look Maebh had given him as he beat that man half to death — he never wanted to see her looking at him like that again.

“So what you’ll agree to do,” he sneered, speaking loud enough for all the men to hear. “Is leave this city alone and stay the hell away from this state altogether. You’re gonna cross that damn border and tell your boss that this place ain’t worth it, ’cause if we hear anythin’ — and I mean _anythin’_ — about you lot comin’ back here, I’ve no problem gatherin’ up all my men and tyin’ every one of you to these tracks, am I clear?”

The Foreman nodded his head. “Yes—”

“_Louder, boy!”_

“Yes! We understand! We won’t come back, just let us go!”

John chimed in. “They got less than two minutes!”

“Untie these idiots,” Arthur growled, already cutting one of them free. “Let them run before they piss their pants.”

There were audible groans in the group but they heeded his orders regardless. The Foremans, finally released from their binds sprinted off into the night, heading west and away from the train.

“You did great, Arthur,” Maebh announced as they pulled their bandanas down. “They were scared shitless.”

“I’m nearly sure one of them did actually piss their pants,” Davey agreed, clapping him on the back. “We did good tonight.”

Arthur grinned. “Yeah, we did. I guess we have a pretence for actin’ like crazy bastards.”

Karen shrugged. “Well, Dutch always sends his best, y’know.”

“I know, I know. Now what I’m thinkin’ is that you three can head back to camp while Miss Hennigan and I talk to the pastor. I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout that money you found, Miss Karen, and it should probably go back to those poor folk they stole it from.”

Karen sighed but handed him the bag of cash anyway. “I already said you was goin’ soft, Arthur!”

Though there was some moaning and groaning over the money, the others eventually agreed to return it to those in need. The group then split up, the other three agreeing to head home while Arthur and Maebh would report back to the pastor and hand over the money.

Upon arriving at his church, Maebh made introductions considering Arthur and Pastor Johnson had yet to meet in person.

“You shouldn’t hear anymore from those boys, Pastor,” Arthur explained after shaking his hand. “They should be runnin’ for the border as we speak.”

“And no casualties?” Samuel asked hopefully.

“None,” Maebh replied. “As promised.”

The smile he gave them was so genuine that it almost made Arthur feel a small sense of pride. “Thank you so much, friends. You’ve done the people of this community a great service.”

“Think nothin’ of it,” Arthur said with a shake of his head. “We were happy to help.”

“I can at least offer some payment—”

“There’s no need for that,” Maebh assured him and then looked to the bag over her partner’s shoulder. “Really. I think the people here need it a lot more than us. We think we found somethin’ belongin’ to you lot too.”

Arthur handed him over the bag. “There looks to be a couple hundred dollars in there, Pastor. We found it where they were hold up and had a feelin’ it rightly belongs to you folks. We figured you could give it back to the poor.”

The man stared in amazement at the bag’s content before offering them another firm handshake each. “Thank you, I will. We couldn’t have done this without you. Send the rest of your men my thanks too.”

“Of course.”

Seemingly contemplating something, Samuel quickly added. “I’m not sure if you two are lookin’ for more work, but my brother owns a ranch up near Stony Run in Huron and has been in need of some guns for hire lately.”

Arthur was already listening attentively. “More trouble with the Foremans?”

“They’re not Foremans but he’s had some run ins with thieves when transporting goods and workers, had instances of folks robbing his wagons and the like. He could certainly do with a hand and will happily pay.”

He shared a look with Maebh before replying. “Honest work for honest pay? Sounds interestin’. Tell your brother that we might be up to see him in a couple weeks.”

“He’d appreciate it greatly. Thanks again for your help here.”

“Any problems, just write.” Maebh offered him a wave as they left the church. Mounting their horses, she looked at Arthur with a grin. “You did well today, y’know.”

He smiled back at her from his saddle, steering Boadicea down the road. “So did you.”

“Thanks but, considerin’ what you told me before, I wanted you to know that you couldn’t’ve done a better job tonight. You should be proud.”

Feeling himself blush for the second time that day, Arthur hid beneath his hat and behind some humour. “I’m startin’ to think that you’re the reason I have an ego at all.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” she countered playfully. “We got rid of those Foremans without any issues and we apparently just got some extra paid work out of it too. I think we can label today as a rousin’ success.”

“Me and you should head up there in a while,” he suggested, feeling his heartbeat quicken as he did. “Maybe talk to Samuel’s brother and see if we wanna help him out.”

She eyed him curiously. “Just me and you?”

“He offered _us_ the work, not the rest of them. Besides, more money for us too.” He knew why he was internally panicking over the idea and why he was even more nervous about her response. She probably thought he was insinuating something detestable or rude. He was quickly catching himself as a result. “I mean, only of course if you’d like to.”

“Of course I would,” she replied without hesitation. The smile she flashed nearly broke him. “I already told you there’s no one else I’d rather had my back.”

His heart was racing, only this time it felt amazingly _good_. He was even a little proud of himself. “The feelin’ is mutual.”

She was definitely worth handing in that money.

* * *

The week after the events in Sioux Falls brought with it the beginning of August and a relaxing atmosphere at camp. Things were good and there was a steady flow of money coming in to keep everyone fed. 

Maebh was on guard duty one night, enjoying time to herself and thinking over what work she and Arthur might find in Huron when her thoughts were disrupted. She heard the approaching footsteps. They were not precise or careful to keep themselves hidden — they crunched through the undergrowth as an announcement of their arrival. Fingers clasping the Litchfield that bit tighter in her hands, she glanced over her shoulder. Unsurprisingly it was John, repeater tossed lazily over his shoulder.

“Evenin’.”

She offered him the same greeting in return. “Evenin’.”

John stopped a few feet from her. After a moment of contemplation, he pulled a box ofsmokes. “You, uh, want a cigarette?”

She raised a brow at him. “Should you not be patrollin’ over the other side of camp?”

“Probably,” he replied, unconcerned as he popped a cigarette between his lips and held the box out to her. “Want one?”

It didn’t take too much persuasion for her to take one from the box. He struck a match between his fingers and she let him light it for her before attending to his own. She noted how his body stood that little bit closer to hers even after the match did its job. She took a long drag, and slung her gun over her shoulder, savouring the taste.

“Thanks,” she said on an exhale. “For the cigarette.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They stood in silence for a moment, wavering between being comfortable or awkward depending on where their thoughts took them. Maebh’s gaze slyly trailed over the features of his face. He seemed a little tired around the eyes considering the late hour and his hair had grown out a little since he last got it cut. Stray pieces fell from the right parting to his brow and he had made a habit of continuously pushing them from his vision instead of using pomade. He had definitely bathed recently, given the shine on his dark locks. She wasn’t entirely sure why she found the movement so titillating. As he turned his head, the light of the moon highlighted an unnerving sight, making her focus on the split and bruised skin of his cheek.

“How’s your cheek?”

“Hmm?” He looked up from the ground as she gestured to the injury. “Ah, it’s alright. Doesn’t hurt as much anymore but your brother has some swing on him.”

She hummed in agreement. “So I’ve heard. I’m sorry he punched you, by the way. I didn’t ask him to do that.”

“I didn’t think you did,” he replied, easing some of her worries. “I guess I kinda asked for it.”

“What do you mean?”

He took a long drag before answering, his eyes focusing on the cigarette. “Well, he did say that if I went near you again he’d shoot me in the head. I suppose a punch is better than a bullet.”

Maebh let out a heavy breath, smoke mixing with the night air. “That definitely sounds like William.”

“Sure does.” He paused, clearing his throat, then added with a slight stutter. “It’s not like it wasn’t… I mean you— Uh…”

She allowed herself to look at him, her eyebrow raising expectantly. “What?”

John ran his free hand over the back of his neck. “I was… I was just gonna say that you were, uh, worth the punch, I guess.”

He looked at her then, a small, bashful smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. She wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to what she figured was a compliment. Sleeping with her had been worth a punch to the face, apparently. She wasn’t sure whether he was dumb or excited, or maybe both.

It didn’t take long for her mind to wander to the argument that brought on their aforementioned roll in the hay. It had been bothering her for sometime and there was a small part of her that felt more ashamed for that than what followed.

“John,” she began, steadying herself. “I’m sorry for what I said about Abigail. It was, eh, uncalled for—”

“It’s fine, Maebh,” he assured her. “You weren’t exactly wrong when you said it. I’m… sorry for what I said too. I didn’t mean it.”

Noting his shy disposition, she offered him a smile. “I know you didn’t.”

“Well…” He paused, looking around the trees that surrounded them. “I guess we’re just a pair of idiots.”

“I guess so.” After another beat, a thought crossed her mind. “Actually, about that—”

“Yeah?”

She laughed at his expectant expression. “Don’t look so eager, Marston. I just wanted to tell you that I’m not pregnant.”

“Huh?” He looked at her as though he forgot the possible consequences of their last tryst. Very suddenly, realisation crossed his features and he broke out into a grin. “Oh! Right. That’s good. When did you, uh, find out?”

“A week ago,” she confirmed, recalling how relieved she was to discover she was menstruating. “We haven’t had a chance to talk privately so y’know.”

“Right. That’s a relief. I wouldn’t wanna ruin your proud Irish genes.”

“I thought you were a Scot?” she challenged, cigarette held between her lips. “As long as you’re not a Brit it’s not the _worst_.”

“Oh?” His tone shifted into one she recognised any time he teased her. “You sayin’ my genes aren’t so bad after all?”

She shrugged indifferently. “They’re certainly not as awful as your ability to pull out.”

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are ya?”

“Oh never.”

The pair of them settled into a comfortable silence and Maebh relished it. It was quite nice to be around John and not feel crippling anxiety. She smoked her cigarette in silence as he powered through his, stomping it into the ground once he finished it. Looking a little sheepish, he eventually turned to her and said. “Say, I was wonderin’ if I could ask a favour?”

“Sure that wouldn’t be like ye,” she joked. “What is it?”

“You remember that night in Mitchell, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

His eyes narrowed. “Real’ funny.”

“What’s the favour, Marston?”

He composed himself again, batting a lock of hair out of his eyes. “Back when we was _together_, you asked me to, uh, use my mouth on you.”

“You tried your best,” she said casually. “I’ll give you that.”

He seemed offended by her statement. “What, you sayin’ I wasn’t good?”

“I mean,” she hesitated, searching for her words. “You certainly _tried_.”

John scoffed and got immediately defensive. “It ain’t as easy as it looks, y’know. Every woman likes somethin’ goddamn different and I can never keep up—”

She rolled her eyes. “Jesus, you’re such a _lad_. What’s your point?”

He frowned at her before continuing. “Look, my point is that I think you sorta _owe me_.”

Maebh immediately choked on cigarette smoke, awkwardly clearing her throat as it burned her lungs. Staring at him in surprise, she was shocked to see him looking between her and his crotch. “Are you _jokin’_—”

“Well am I wrong—?”

“The most I’ve ever owed you was a whiskey or a _box of biscuits_—”

“Look, it was just a _thought_—”

“But you’re askin’ me to suck your cock, right?”

“… Well, yeah.”

“_John_—”

“You didn’t seem to mind when I was eatin’ _you_.”

That caught her off guard and she hated to admit that he was right.

Before she could say anything else, he hurried on. “It was just an idea if you wanted to do it. I would never force you to do somethin’ like that if you wasn’t up for it. I ain’t gonna argue if you say no, but I thought I might as well ask you first. You might like it.”

She eyed him up and down for a moment, his self-conscious demeanour very obvious to anyone who knew him. It had been a while since she had done that and her curiosity was roused with his suggestion. She supposed he wasn’t totally wrong — she _did_ owe him.

She decided to be straight with him. “_Just_ oral?”

“Sure, unless you wanna do more. You know me — I won’t deny you.”

“Are you goin’ t’spend in my mouth?”

He blushed and stammered. “I mean, uh, I’d like to but if you’d rather I don’t then I’ll warn you to stop before I come. How ’bout that?”

“That seems fair.”

“So…” He glanced around then looked at her more attentively. “Do you wanna?”

She shrugged, trying to appear a bit more casual about the offer. “Sure.”

John however looked like he was trying to contain his excitement. He quickly placed his carbine on the ground and began to unbuckle his gun belt. “Alright well—”

“_Now?”_ she asked and laughed at his eager display.

Even as he spoke, he set down his belt next to the discarded gun and began unbuttoning his trousers. “What? No one is gonna see us. We’re both on guard duty until sunrise and the latrine is over the other side of camp.” He rushed around her, sitting on the ground with his back resting against a large tree trunk. “They can’t even see us from here.”

Throwing a cautious glance around the trunk she realised that he was right. Nevertheless she gave him a look. “If we get caught we’ll be in shite.”

“We won’t,” he assured her, shoving his trousers down a little and unbuttoning his union suit. “I promise. Plus, that kinda makes it even more fun.”

“I should’ve guessed,” she huffed, placed her repeater down next to his, and lowered herself to her knees. “Considerin’ we keep havin’ sex near the rest of gang.”

“Don’t lie — you’re into it too. Now, do you need me to tell you how to—”

She placed her hands firmly on his muscled thighs, successfully shushing him. “I’ve done this before, alright? Just tell me what you like as I go.”

“With _who?”_ he demanded. “Don’t tell me in was that damn _stableboy_.”

“Do you think that _now_ is a good time to be givin’ out about him? Let’s do this before my back starts to hurt.”

“I’m sure I won’t take long,” he said, breathing quicker with anticipation. “It’s been a little while since I had one of these.”

Having little more to say, Maebh got to work. Although he was mostly in charge last time, she found him surprisingly easy to mould and willing to sacrifice control for the sake of his pleasure. His hands played with her hair while he was inside her mouth, threading it between fingers and lightly clasping her head. He used words as guidance and she was happy to oblige. Though the act itself was different to their previous encounters, the atmosphere seemed to have shifted and grown too. Emotions weren’t as riled and hopeless, forcing them into an encounter so that they could try to feel something. It was almost a relief to make a choice not overly influenced by the desperate need for attention, but rather enjoying feeling wanted. It wasn’t the love she desired from Arthur but it was something that provided her some surface-level pleasure. 

John’s thighs clenched and tensed under her touch, relishing in the heat of her mouth and the touch of her lips. His needy whimpers were kept behind pursed lips and closed eyes. His breathing grew laboured, his words whispered so lightly they were almost lost on the night air. The sense of control had her moaning and sending him closer to ever-rising sensations ready and willing to explode. Her movements quickened and suddenly his hoarse voice spoke up.

“_Stop_,” he rasped. “I’m nearly there. Please, stop.”

Taking her mouth off him, she straightened up to meet his heavy eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Never been better,” he said before closing the distance and pulling her into a passionate kiss. His eager nature almost made her laugh, but then again his lips kept her too busy to do much else.

“I’d like to lie down with you,” he heaved between kisses. “If you want to. I promise I’ll pull out this time.”

His question was met with contemplative silence for a brief moment. Holding much less weight than times previous, she dared to gently brush some of the dishevelled hair from his eyes. Lightly touching his bruised cheek in the process caused him to hiss and flinch. “_Shit_, I’m sorry. Are you—?”

His pained expression changed almost immediately to a playful grin. “Awh, I’m just kiddin’.”

The look of disgust she gave him only caused more laughs. “You’re such an arsehole!”

“I’m only teasin’ you. Let me make it up to you. We can have some fun together.”

“Do you have a habit of fuckin’ women in forests, Mr. Marston?”

He smirked at her tone. “Apparently so, Miss Hennigan, though I don’t see you complainin’. You always was good company.”

“Is this why you bathed?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You _sure_ know how to make a girl feel special.”

“I like to think I do,” he replied, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her into his lap. His hardness pressed between her legs while a hand slithered up her side, his thumb gently running along her bottom lip. “C’mon, darlin’. I wanna hear you make some dirty sounds with that pretty mouth.”

Throwing all rhyme and reason out the window, Maebh cast a glance around the tree before meeting his eyes once more. “I will if you keep your suspenders on while we do it.”

Completely blindsided by her response, he blinked, then replied. “Uh, how am I supposed to do that without my pants on?”

Already unbuttoning his shirt, she shrugged. “Arthur would know how—”

Though her tone was jesting, John wasn’t amused. With deft movements, he pushed her on to her back and hovered above her. “Maebh?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut up.”

The kiss he gave her was searing though she certainly wasn’t complaining. Having long since passed the nervous embarrassment their previous encounters held, their familiarities with each others bodies worked in their favour. He seemed content to let her do what she wanted to him, suspenders be damned. The rasping sound of his voice painting breath against the goosebump-laden skin of her neck was a familiar sensation. Much like the intimate but pleasurable burn that came with him stretching her, filling her entirely. Whatever personal guilt her mind conjured dissipated with their growing release. Hands clasping at skin and names on lips were all she could feel and hear until she felt apart and he quickly followed after, fulfilling his insistent promises.

Sated and standing apart afterwards, she gathered her clothes, buttoning up her jeans and dishevelled blouse. John stood nearby, working on his pants a lot slower as his eyes wandered over her frame. Maebh tried to focus on making herself look presentable, though the thin sheen of sweat that covered his sinewy chest was becoming increasingly distracting.

Meeting her eyes, John shrugged. “Wanna go again?”

She looked back at him, hands halted in their movements. “Eh, fuck it, yeah.”

She wished she could say that he was on her in an instant, but really she had met him halfway, happy and relieved to feel hands on her cheeks and that vacant part of herself temporarily filled.


	23. Tread Softly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hosea offers Maebh some advice, and she and Arthur become hired guns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pals, I had this chapter finished so I decided to post it a little earlier than usual. Consider this the calm before an awkward storm that's coming in quick. Quite a few people have already realised what's a'foot, so prepare thyselves and (hopefully) enjoy!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Grow into Love” — Half Moon Run, “The Evening Star” — Danny Norbury, “Meet Me in the Woods” — Lord Huron, “Hero” — Lissie, “Let This Remain” — Alana Henderson

** _9th August, 1894, outside Fulton, South Dakota_ **

_I’m a bit livid that no one told me how difficult it was to get over someone you love. Do you even get over them? Or do they remain perpetually on your mind until they drive you mad? It’s infuriating. Certain things serve as good distractions until I lay eyes on Arthur again, and then I’ve a tendency to stare at his lips while he’s talking. He probably thinks I look insane, although whenever I see him, that’s _ _exactly_ _how I feel. Oh, this is a bit dire. I used to think all those feelings Shakespeare wrote about were sugar-coated for the sake of rhyme or imagery. Now, I’m not so sure. Perhaps I just need more time and these feelings will go away. Or maybe I need a more aggressive distraction?_

_Honestly who knows? Because I sure as hell don’t._

_Arthur said that we can go up to Mr. Johnson’s ranch at Stony Run in the next few days. I’m hoping that the more time I spend with him, the more I’ll get used to his platonic company. Working together as hired guns should help to keep me distracted, and it’s probably a healthier distraction than riding Marston._

* * *

_Meet me in the woods tonight around midnight. North of the lake where it meets Johnson Creek._

The note didn’t need a signature. It had been left in the book she was currently reading. The helpful lines hastily drawn beneath the words to ensure they remained straight on the paper was enough to tell her _exactly_ who wrote it.

There had been something spontaneous about Maebh’s previous rendezvous with John, but this note held with it a weight that represented agreement. Come meet me at this time so that we might continue this apparent affair. She didn’t realise there _was_ an option to continue it, or classify it as such; a sort of agreement between friends. Friends who — apparently — fuck instead of approaching those with whom they would much rather be involved.

She was currently sat on the ground, furiously cleaning the laundry she was asked to complete today while William sat nearby, resting his healing thigh as he scrubbed down a saddle. Him speaking in their native language was what pulled her from her swirling thoughts. “So, what are you goin’ t’do, then?”

She looked up from the pail of water to frown at him. “About what?”

“’Bout that note,” he replied, leaving her a bit surprised. “You’ve been really quiet since you read it this mornin’ and I can only assume it’s somethin’ to do with that racoon.”

“Do you _always_ have to call him that?”

“Yes,” he said with a shrug, scrubbing on the saddle with extra vigour. “If he keeps gettin’ cosy with my sister. He’s avoidin’ me like the plague ’cause he knows I know.”

“I mean you did threaten to kill him, William.”

“I suppose. Can I at least ask what the note said?”

She paused, focusing her attention on the shirt she was cleaning, then answered. “He asked me to meet him up at Johnson Creek tonight.”

Though he seemed to assume as much, he was still visibly perturbed. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Is this just a _thing_ you’s do now?”

“I think if I agree to go see him then that’s what it’ll become.” Hands immersed in the water, she turned to her younger brother to see him looking less than impressed. “Can I ask — without startin’ an argument — why you’re so against this? It’s just sex and I’m not gettin’ much attention from anywhere else.”

“I’ve one question for you before I answer that: are you _sure_ it’s _just_ sex?”

“Yes,” she answered confidently. “Look, I love John, alright? He’s one of my best friends and I do genuinely care about him but I’m not _in love_ with him. No offence to him, but he’s no Arthur. Jesus, he’s busy tryin’ to figure out what the hell he’s to do about his feelin’s for Abigail so I’m pretty sure we’re in the same boat.

Her words seemed to appease him. “Okay, I’m glad. To answer your previous question, I just don’t like it. I honestly don’t think he’s deservin’ of your attention when he’d much rather be with Abigail — who he still pays for by the way. You’re both pinin’ after other people and usin’ this physical relationship as some sorta copin’ mechanism. I think you guys are playin’ with fire. I’d hate to see your friendship become affected by this. That and I’m nervous after your last close call. Trust me when I say that he’d be the type of fella to up and leave you if he got you pregnant and I don’t want to see that happenin’ to you. You deserve someone who loves you for more than just a good ride. ”

Seeing that William was genuinely upset with the possibilities, Maebh grabbed her bucket of water and moved it so that she could take a seat next to him. She offered him a reassuring smile. “I know, I get it. I’ve kinda accepted that Arthur is a lost cause at this point. He’s got far too many problems of his own that take priority and I doubt he’ll ever see me in the same light. I know that the first few nights I shared with John left me upset but they’re a alright distraction right now. I don’t plan on marryin’ him and I certainly don’t plan on havin’ his child. But it’s nice to just be with someone, y’know? It’ll never become anythin’ more but it’s certainly better than nothin’ right now.”

His green eyes flickered over her face, assessing her admission in that very attentive William way. Apparently satisfied with her honesty, he reached out to hold her hand in his. “Will you just do me a favour? If you do decide to meet him tonight and you’s make this some sort of official ‘friends who sometimes shag’ deal, get the hell out of there at the first sign of trouble.”

“Alright, I promise.”

“I mean it,” he insisted. “I know you’ve given up on somethin’ with Arthur but I still have a bit of hope. I think you’s could make each other happy.”

“In a perfect world maybe,” she laughed though she still appreciated his words. “But I promise if I do pursue this agreement and there’s any trouble with John I’ll call it quits.”

“Good, because my ultimate nightmare is hearin’ you callin’ him Daddy Marston when he sires my godforsaken nephew.”

That had her giggling. “Jesus, no! I would never put you through that.”

“Hey, Maebh?” They both turned to see Abigail standing there with a smile on her face. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“You’re grand, Abby,” William assured her, switching back to english. “No apology necessary.”

“What do you need?” Maebh asked her.

“I was just wonderin’ if I could talk to you for a minute?” she asked, glancing at her William. “In private if that’s alright?”

Slightly sheepish, Maebh got to her feet with the clean clothes his her arms. “Always. I’ve to hang these up so why don’t we chat by the washin’ line?”

Standing closely together as Maebh tossed the wet clothes over the line, Abigail began to explain. “I’ve been doin’ a lot of talkin’ with Dutch about my job.”

Maebh gave her a curious look. “Oh yeah? Is he still tryin’ to convince you to quit bein’a workin’ girl?”

“Not anymore because I _am_ quittin’, as of today.”

“Really?” Maebh looked at her friend to see her smiling widely. “Are you happy to do it?”

Abigail nodded with certainty. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve kind of had enough of that life. It was makin’ me unhappy of late and, well, I don’t wanna be a workin’ woman for my whole life.”

“Well then fair play to you. As long as you’re happy with what you’re doin’ then I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a smile before stooping down and helping her hang out the washing. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll stop with outsiders for the time being, considerin’ I still get business from John from time to time.”

“He still hasn’t tried to court you yet?”

“Nope, though I ain’t exactly surprised. He’s sorta awkward but is happy to ask for my services at least.”

“Do you think you’d court him if he asked?”

Abigail seemed almost amused by the idea. “He’s a nice feller, but I ain’t sure. He doesn’t really talk to me much outside of payin’ me. Not that I care — I get money for my work so I won’t complain, but I don’t know too much about him.”

“He’d be worth a shot,” she suggested casually, hiding her frustration with John’s inability to confess his feelings, although she was probably a hypocrite. “If you ever feel like findin’ a fella to be with.”

“Maybe once he matures a little bit,” she suggested lightheartedly. “Maybe, who knows. But I’m gettin’ sidetracked. Now that I ain’t gettin’ paid from men outside of camp, Dutch says I’ll have to do more jobs to earn my keep.”

“You mean you’ll be comin’ out with us now? Great!”

“Hopefully! He says I can start small — little pickpocketin’ jobs with you and the other women. I was wonderin’ if there’s any chance you’d come into town with me so I can practice? I ain’t got no problem holdin’ my own, but I’d rather someone watch my back while I try get back into the swing of things.”

“Definitely,” Maebh agreed with a smile. “We can head into Mitchell and pickpocket some of the rich lads together. Karen is out with Arthur, but why don’t we bring Tilly with us too? It’s been a while since we left camp for a bit and I’m sure she’d like some time away from Miss Grimshaw.”

“I’ll ask her now,” Abigail said, seemingly happy with the arrangement. “Why don’t we meet you by the horses?”

Maebh agreed before quickly hanging up the last of the clothes and letting William know where she was off to. Tilly was apparently more than happy to join them in town in order to avoid some of the more menial tasks around camp, so the three of them were soon riding into Mitchell and selecting their victims. All three of the girls were deft at the task and eager to assist Abigail however they could, watching from the sidelines as she expertly slipped her hands into the coat pockets of men in the local saloon and leaving with their wallets. Slipping out of said saloon before they were noticed led them to Doty Park, a small plot where they could find some new targets. At this point, the three of them started to share their own tips, Maebh discussing some of William’s methods while Tilly talked about what she learned while being forced to work with the Foremans. They took turns in showing their techniques in action, sometimes employing the help of another as a distraction while they stole several wallets and pocket watches out of citizens’ coats. They didn’t stay in any one place for too long because of their own safety. If a whole gang of disgruntled people accosted them they would be in serious trouble, but thankfully no such thing happened as they moved freely throughout the city, avoiding the law by slipping through crowds and remaining as inconspicuous as possible. They even went to get a meal before heading back to camp, joking and laughing about some of their closer calls and discussing how they could be avoided next time. It was actually quite nice to get out of camp with the other women for once. Maebh used to spend most of her time with Bessie before her passing, but now with the newest additions ofAnnabelle, Abigail, and Tilly, herself and Karen finally had some other women to chat to. She loved running jobs with the men in the gang sure, but it was refreshing to spend time with the women for once. Maebh made sure to make that fact known as they rode back into camp.

“We should do this again soon, girls. It’s been a while since I had such a laugh out on work.”

“Yes please,” Tilly agreed as she hitched her horse. “It was nice to finally get out with you two.”

“Next time we should make sure Karen is around to join us,” Abigail added. “And maybe Annabelle too.”

That idea sounded great to Maebh. “Definitely! We can arrange that and maybe even head out for a drink afterwards and vent about the fellas ’round here.”

With everyone in agreement, the trio split some of their earnings into the donation box before parting ways. The sun had already set again they came back to camp and Maebh remained with William for the rest of the evening. However, she couldn’t help but keep an eye on his pocket watch as midnight approached. John was gone again she returned, presumably to draw less attention to them later on. Most of the camp had already retired to bed — including her brother — when she ventured out of their tent. Casting a glance about the place, she spotted Hosea sitting by the campfire with a bottle in his hand. Instinctively drawn to him, she found herself walking over and taking a seat across from him.

“Evenin’, Hosea.”

“Miss Hennigan,” he greeted her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just thought I’d join you. We haven’t really talked much in a while, have we?”

“No,” he replied after a moment’s contemplation. “I don’t suppose we have. How are you doing?”

“Alright, I think. I’ve had more good days than bad days at least.”

“Haven’t we all,” he agreed with a small smile, sipping on his drink. He reached to his feet and offered her up the other bottle. “Fancy a beer?”

She accepted his offer with a small nod and took the cool glass in her hands. “Why not? I could use one.”

“Long day?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I actually had a nice time in the city with Abby and Tilly. We stole some money from a bunch of rich fellas and came out with a decent amount in the end.”

“Good work. Those two girls can certainly hold their own, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah. They’ve been through a lot so I suppose they had to grow up faster than others. How’ve you been doin’?”

“Ah,” Hosea began, dismissing her concern. “Feelin’ the same as always really.”

Hesitantly, Maebh replied. “I feel like whenever I see you now you’ve got a bottle in your hand.”

“Well you’re not wrong there.” He laughed bitterly. “I must be startin’ to look like Bill Williamson at this rate. Although I’ll say that grievin’ isn’t the same as being a lazy bum. I wasn’t like this with drink before, y’know. Not even before I met Bessie.”

“I didn’t think you were. You never exactly struck me as the type to drown his sorrows in alcohol.”

“An astute observation, though it doesn’t hold much weight now.”

“I guess not.” She eyed him carefully as she sipped on her own drink. “If there’s anythin’ I can do to help just let me know.”

“Just offer this old man your ear every now and then and that should do fine.”

“Of course, Hosea. Anytime. Would it be alright if I asked you a question? About Bessie, I mean.”

He met her gaze but didn’t seem put out by the query. “Yes. I’ll do my best to answer.”

“When you first met her all those years ago, did you know that you were goin’ to end up together? I read so much in those story and poems about love at first sight and fate and how someone lays eyes on another and just _knows_ that they’ll be with them for the rest of their life. I don’t really think I believe in love at first sight or any of that really, but you Bessie were so perfect for each other. It makes me wonder.”

Despite his drinking, Hosea still made an effort to consider her question before answer. As was his way — he was always willing to listen to those in the gang who genuinely needed some guidance. He had such a knack for advising and comforting curious young outlaws. He had done it when she and William first joined and would probably still be doing it now was he not grieving so heavily.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a man who believes in love at first sight either. But when I met Bessie all those years ago, I knew I wanted to marry her. Thought I’d be lucky to find a woman like that who could possibly love a man like me. It wasn’t like destiny or fate or Isuddenly envisioned myself growing old with her, no. Her kindness and her empathy enamoured me. Simply put I don’t believe it was fate that brought us together; I think we were both lucky to have found each other. I wanted to be with her and she was happy to give me a chance. She gave me the best years of my life, truly, but life is cruel. Since  she was taken from me, I miss her every day. She’s what I think about when I wake up, what I’m still thinkin’ about when I go to sleep. Somehow I think it’ll always be like this, that there will never be a day when she’s not on my mind. It confuses me… Confuses me no end how a wretched sinner like me could be given someone so perfect, so beautiful to take care of for once in my wretched life, do my best. And then she dies and I live on. Well at least for now. She’s not been gone long and I can’t help but think about all them years ahead of me that I was given and she was not. And we’re expected to believe in judgment? What kind of a judge would save me and take her? A foolish one I can’t respect any more than I can respect myself. I miss her so. Sometimes the unfairness of it all confuses me.

“But love… Love is a precious thing because of the cruelty that life always throws at you. I wouldn’t trade all those years if it meant taking the pain away now. Bessie was worth every moment of sufferin’. So no, to answer your question, I don’t necessarily believe in love at first sight, but what I do believe is that love should be cherished. If you find someone who cares about you too then embrace it. After what we’ve been through, we deserve some softness, somethin’ gentle but real. If you love somethin’ then you hold on to it. Don’t let it go. You may not realise how little time you really have.”

Maebh sat is silence, letting his words sink in. The crackling of the campfire held her attention while her company let out a heavy sigh.

“It’s almost midnight,” he said, checking his watch and getting to his feet. “So I must be gettin’ on. I’m sorry for bein’ so morose, my dear.”

“You’ve nothin’ to apologise for, Hosea. Absolutely nothin’, I promise.”

“Well, I hope my words were of some help to you, Maebh. Goodnight.”

With that, he left and she smiled upon seeing that he had left the half-consumed bottle at the fire. She really hoped he could manage to shake the excessive drinking sooner rather than later, but things were in no way easy for him now. She remained sitting on her own for a moment longer to mull over his words before standing and leaving her own bottle behind. Instinctively she turned to where Arthur’s tent stood. Inside she could see him sleeping peacefully on his cot. Whatever desire she had to walk over to him slowly faded with when she recalled what he told her not long ago.

_“With the life I’ve lived, I don’t think I’m deservin’ of it … I don’t know if I have it in me.”_

She stood with her hands on her hips, looking between the tent and the woods. No matter how badly she wanted him to be, Arthur simply wasn’t where she wished him to be. How could she hold on to him when he didn’t love her back? Reluctantly turning to face the daunting trees, she steadied herself and began to set off towards the spot up at Johnson Creek. She assured Bill — who stood on guard duty — that she was merely going for a walk and would we back in an hour or two. He didn’t ask questions.

There was some part of her — some small part of the far corner of her mind — that was okay with all this. That feeling of being so desperately wanted by another, that raw passion she felt whenever John was inside her was somehow worth the secrecy, possibly even worth risking their friendship. It was probably foolish, but with little hope coming from the man she really loved, she had to accept who wanted her and who didn’t. Feelings couldn’t be altered to suit her own narrative and she was sick of standing by and pining after someone who would never look at her as though she was worth the risk. Perhaps accepting whatever was going on between them was the key to calming those feelings that always pulled her back towards Arthur. The fact of the matter was that John wanted her — in whatever sort of weird agreement they had ahead of them — and she wanted a warm body next to her. She wanted to be wanted.

No, she wasn’t in love with John and he certainly hadn’t fallen for her either, but he still cared and so did she. It would never be anything more than a temporary lust and that was okay. Perhaps someday she would know how it feels to be loved so deeply. 

She wasn’t walking through the trees for long when she noticed the dim light of an oil lamp up ahead. Peering towards it, she spotted John. He stood over a small set up that included a blanket laid out on the ground, and the oil lamp propped beside it for a source of light. He paced around, smoking a cigarette while he waited. The noise of her stepping through the brush caused his head to snap up. She stood a few feet from him and their eyes met.

He stared at her for a moment, cigarette hanging between his lips. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

A few seconds of silence followed.

He quickly tossed the cigarette on the ground and put it out with his foot.“I wasn’t sure if you was comin’.”

“I’m a bit late, sorry. I was chattin’ to Hosea.”

“Of course.” He pointed to the blanket. “Uh, I got some whiskey and a few crackers and what not.”

She looked to the covering and noticed the food and drink, including two bars of chocolate and a box of biscuits. “Right.”

“I figured we could relax before we… Well, I mean we could chat and have a few drinks and then you know, this and that.”

She gave him an amused look. “_Right_. Sounds good.”

“You sure?” he asked as she moved to join him by the quilt.

“Yeah,” she answered honestly, offering him a smile. “It sounds nice.”

John grinned, eyes shimmering in the low light. “Great. Have a seat.”

Amused by the display, Maebh sat down the comfortable blanket as John joined her with the bottle of whiskey in hand. He opened it, then passed it to her for the first sip. After a few moments of awkwardness, they soon descended into familiar banter, chatting aimlessly about their days and goings on in camp. Despite the stark changes in their friendship, it was familiar and comfortable to talk like they used to. 

For now, this little secret of theirs was by all accounts nice. John cared, so maybe she should take Hosea’s advice and embarrass this temporary arrangement for what it was.

Maybe someday she would find that type of precious love worth holding on to.

* * *

Arthur was excited for today. It was odd to admit it but he really was.

He was on the outskirts of Huron with Maebh by his side, ready to introduce themselves to Pastor Johnson’s brother who owned a ranch nearby. She seemed happy enough to spend time with him that morning when they left camp and their entire journey along the James River was filled with casual conversation until they reached the city’s outskirts at lunchtime. They stopped on the riverbank to rest and reeled in a walleye to fill their empty stomachs too. Some helpful fishermen were also kind enough to give them directions to the ranch when politely prompted.

“Have you been to Huron before?” Maebh asked him a little while later as they rode northwards to the ranch.

Arthur shook his head. “I can’t say that I have, Miss Maebh. I ain’t too fond of cities but you know that. Too many people. It was only plotted in 1880 as far as I know, so it’s still young city I guess.”

“You’ve never visited it but you know the year it was plotted? You must be a well-read fella.”

“I’m certainly a few things, but bein’ well-read ain’t one of ’em. I thought that would be more your kinda thing.”

“I guess so.”

“Dutch would probably be the better person to discuss that with. You two can have some intellectual debates about Evelyn Miller.”

She grimaced atop Dullahan. “_Evelyn Miller?_ No thanks.”

Arthur let out an amused huff. “What, is he not really your style?”

“Not even a little bit. I can’t understand that fella’s work for nothin’. At least I can enjoy Yeats or Wilde because I understand what’s goin’ on. I don’t really know what Dutch gets outta his work, but maybe I’m just not an _intellectual_.”

“Well I have to give you credit — I prefer your mythology retellin’s instead of whatever crap Miller writes about.”

“Now you’re just tryin’ to flatter me.”

“Or I’m bein’ honest.”

“A ruthless gunslinger like you? Not a chance. Speakin’ of, what’s our cover headin’ in here?”

He looked at her in confusion. “Our cover?”

“We’re hardly goin’ to stroll into this ranch and give our full names and mention that we’re in a gang. We only gave the the pastor in Sioux Falls our first names. and I’m not exactly eager to give anyone my surname given we’re not that far from Wisconsin.”

“That’s a fair point.” He pondered her words for a moment, then thought back to the last time they had to give fake names. “We could take some inspiration from Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, maybe?”

Maebh didn’t seem to understand him. “Who?”

“You remember our train heist back in Iowa? I think we did a pretty good job of playin’ the part of a married couple. We seemed…” He tried to search for the appropriate word. “… believable.”

“That we did,” she agreed with a smile, the gesture causing a sense of ease to wash over him. “Okay then. A married pair of hired guns it is. If this Mr. Johnson asks any questions ’bout our marriage I’ll just let you handle it.”

“But _you’re_ the storyteller.”

“Yeah but _you’re_ the better liar.”

Her smile turned wry and he loved it. The more he began to realise his feelings, the more weight her words held. Maybe she wasn’t too far off the mark.

He liked this arrangement far more than he would admit.

They arrived at the ranch soon after, the familiar smell of cattle and grassy pastures filling his nostrils. A long dirt trail lead them to a house surrounded by fields and cattle pens. A barn stood on the western side, along with a corral. As they got closer, a sign came into view reading ‘Stony Run Ranch’. They slowly lead the horses along the trail, passing by workers’ lodgings and a chicken coop. One of the ranch hands quickly approached them with a rifle in his hand. “Can I help you?”

“Howdy, mister,” Arthur greeted him. “We’re lookin’ for a Mr. Johnson. His brother — the pastor in Sioux Falls — sent us. Heard he was lookin’ for some hired guns.”

The man seemed skeptical at first, but quickly relaxed when they mentioned Pastor Johnson. “I see. He’s over in the corral. Follow me.”

The followed the him in silence then hitched their horses outside the corral and continued on foot. Their guide announced their arrival to a man who was brushing down a healthy-looking work horse. “You got visitors, Mr. Johnson! Guns-for-hire your brother sent.”

Mr. Johnson turned his attention to them, seemingly pleased with what he saw. “Thanks, Leland. I’ll take it from here.” He offered them each a handshake. “Albert Johnson, pleased to meet you both.”

Arthur shook it firmly. “Arthur Buchanan. And this is my wife, Maebh.”

The way his stomach flipped at saying those words was almost embarrassing.

She simply smiled by his side. “A pleasure.”

“So, you’re the guns my brother spoke so highly about. He said you pulled off a miracle with that gang he was havin’ trouble with.”

“They certainly weren’t the nicest folks we’ve dealt with,” Arthur said. “But it didn’t take much pressure to get them to buckle.”

“And no casualties I hear.”

“None,” Maebh confirmed. “Though that was as your brother requested. We’re just as good with our guns as we are with our words.”

“That’s good to hear because we’ve been needin’ it of late.”

“Havin’ trouble with a gang yourself?”

Albert appeared thoughtful, gently running a large hand through the horse’s mane. “I ain’t quite sure if it’s a gang, but we’ve been dealin’ with thieves and bandits in these parts recently. I’ve had cattle stolen and wagons attacked while makin’ deliveries and travellin’ between ranches. We could certainly use the few extra guns.”

“Well we’re happy to provide,” Arthur replied. “For a fair price, of course.”

“Of course,” Albert repeated. “I’ve never left a man short of a fair wage and I ain’t about to start.”

“Then we’ll get along just fine, Mr. Johnson.” 

He really meant what he said. Albert seemed to be around his own age but taller with a stockier build. He looked like a man who liked to get his hands dirty instead of standing idly by as his employees did most of the work. Arthur liked to think that he was a good judge of character, and this man never gave him a reason to feel concerned or suspicious. He seemed like an honest hard-worker, something he could admire. Ranch life wasn’t easy, and he could only assume that being an African American made it even harder at times.

“I like to know a little about folks before I employ them,” Mr. Johnson explained as he saddled up his horse. “Why don’t you two join me while I take the cattle out to pasture? We can discuss jobs and learn a little more about each other?”

Maebh cast her eyes over the penned cattle. “Sounds like fun.”

“Have you got much experience in herdin’, Mrs. Buchanan?”

“I can’t say that I do,” she admitted with a laugh as they went to fetch their horses. “My ma and da were farmers as opposed to ranchers.”

“What about you, Mister?”

Arthur was honest. “I did a little here and there, but I’m certainly no expert.”

“It ain’t too difficult. Just follow my instructions and you should do just fine.”

Though Arthur had expected something more dangerous on their first journey up to the ranch, it was a little refreshing to do something so mundane instead. They rode behind Albert as he led them to the pens, herding the cattle out into the road with the assistance of some other ranch hands. Two other riders joined them to offer a helping hand that was sorely needed. Arthur took up the portion at the rear with Maebh while Albert led the way, calling instructions over his shoulder. They weaved back and forth behind them, making sure to keep them nice and tight through the fields. On a nice spot of land, they slowly brought the herd to a halt, letting them spread out to graze.

“That’s not bad,” Mr. Johnson complimented them. “Not bad at all for a pair of gunslingers.”

“Maybe we were ranchers in a past life,” Arthur joked, looking at the cattle. “This is quite a piece of land you got here.”

Albert looked fondly around him. “Thank you. It was my father’s before mine. His former master gifted it to him on his deathbed because he had no children of his own. They was close, ya see. He owned slaves but he wasn’t like any of those cruel bastards you hear stories about, I’ll give him that much. My wife and I grew up here our whole lives considerin’ our families worked these fields. My father offered to keep the former-slaves on as paid workers after the Civil War if they wanted it. When our old master died, we had a lot of immigrants come by too lookin’ for work. We got a good team, that’s for sure, but we still have to deal with bandits and thieves who don’t take a likin’ to land owned by negroes.”

“Sounds like it can be rough,” Arthur commented bitterly. “Dealin’ with folks like that. We’ve met our fair share of them on our travels.”

“It certainly can. But we’re lucky to have met mostly kind and welcoming people around the parts. Our ranch is runnin’ well and the majority of folks we deal with ain’t got no problem doin’ business with us. You still get the prejudiced kind of fellers but you always will. Not much can be done about that.”

“Well, we could always shoot them for you if they decide to shoot at us.”

Albert chuckled in amusement. “I suppose that’s what you’re here for right? We’ll be needin’ you for standard jobs — accompanyin’ caravans, some night-watching, recovery jobs. I won’t ask too much about your employment history. I know guns-for-hire have to make ends meet somehow and I’m not ignorant on the subject.”

“We didn’t think you were,” Maebh replied. “But we can promise that we’re hard workers just lookin’ to make some money the old fashioned way. No tricks and our previous explorations don’t matter all that much. We won’t mess you ’round.”

He eyed them curiously, relaxing in his saddle. “How long have you two been workin’ together?”

Arthur turned to see Maebh grinning at him affectionately and the sight nearly set him falling off Boadicea. He realised that she was waiting for him to explain, so he quickly got himself together. “About four years now. Met on a job, decided to keep workin’ together, and then got married last year.”

“We make a really good team,” Maebh confirmed. “And we’ll do a damn good job of sortin’ out those bandits for you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Mr. Johnson replied, seemingly happy enough. “How do you folks work? I heard you’re stayin’ out near Fulton.”

Arthur nodded. “That we are. We do work all over really, so if you need us to come up to the ranch, all you need to do is send a letter addressed to us in Fulton with a few days notice. We can come up then and let you know ahead of time if there’s any problems or if we’re already on a job. But we’ll usually be free for any work that’s needed.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Tell you what, Leland and a few of the other boys are bringin’ some of the produce over to Cavour to sell. We’ve had some trouble headin’ that way before so maybe you can join them on the ride and show off some of those skills if it calls for it. You’ll be paid, of course.”

Seeing the eager glint in his friend’s eyes, Arthur had no choice but to accept. “Sounds good. Just point us in the right direction and we’ll get to it.”

He couldn’t help but be quite happy with the arrangement. The fact he could spend some time away from camp with a good friend was a welcome relief compared to how he used to be alone so often. He got the feeling that Mr. Johnson would be a good man to work for whenever he would call for them with a letter. The other plus — the one he was a little ashamed to admit — was that he could spend more one on one time with Maebh, away from distractions at camp. He missed the jobs they used to do as just the two of them. But now he had a way to spend more time with her without seeming pushy or even creepy, playing husband and wife no less. Even when he was away from camp, her company made him feel at home.

Oh, he should feel terrible. He really should for being so enamoured by a young woman who deserved so much more than he could offer. How he hadn’t noticed these affections creeping up until recently was beyond him.

He used to think himself brave; fearless when staring down the barrel of a gun, but he was slowly realising that he may not be the man he thought he was.

Maybe someday he would find the courage or the words to tell her how she made him feel and explain how even after all his suffering of late, she still managed to make him truly and wholeheartedly happy.


	24. Stars, Hide Your Fires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Christmas swiftly approaching, John begins to question what he really wants and whether he's brave enough to admit it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howiyas. Hope everyone is safe and well, especially those across the pond. I'm posting this chapter a little earlier than usual because it's finished and I'm excited ha. Really curious to see what you's think of this one -- get ready for a perspective change and a small time skip too.  
Also as a sidenote, I might possibly be returning to work next week as lockdown restrictions ease. If not next week, most likely the week after. So just an FYI updates might slow a teeny bit, but have no fear, I won't disappear out of nowhere.  
Anyway, enjoy another instalment!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “I Need My Girl” — The National, “The Sailor’s Bonnet” — The Gloaming, “The One that Got Away” — The Civil Wars, “When You Break” — Bear’s Den

_“Autumn is over the long leaves that love us, _

_And over the mice in the barley sheaves; _

_Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us, _

_And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves. _

_The hour of the waning of love has beset us, _

_And weary and worn are our sad souls now; _

_Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us, _

_With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow.”_

**―** **William Butler Yeats, ‘The Falling of the Leaves’**

* * *

It was a cool winter morning when John awoke in the hotel bed. He rubbed his blurry eyes, stretching under the warm covers. After spending so many years sleeping under the stars, he wondered whether he would ever get used to lying in a bed with a roof over his head. The only reason why he hadn’t camped outside over night was the cold weather. December’s arrival brought with it freezing and sometimes snowy weather, so unless he was staying at camp, he tried his best to rent rooms in hotels and saloons. 

He rolled over languidly, stretching out his arm and expecting to feel a warm body next to him, but was met with an empty bed. He let out a groan, then called out in a hoarse voice. “Maebh?”

“I’m here.”

The reassuring reply came from behind, and he groggily shifted in the bed to look over his shoulder. She was standing in front of the window, dressed in only her chemise and peering down at the street below.

“You’re up early,” he noted, watching her from the bed. “Everythin’ alright?”

“It’s snowin’,” was her simple response, eyes following the falling speckles of white as they floated through the air on to the streets below. “I wanted to have a look.”

“Heavily?”

“No, it’s quite light. It makes the outside look so peaceful.”

“Where did the fascination with snow come from?”

“We never got it back in Ireland, and if we did it was either really light or looked more like sleet. I guess I’m still not used to seein’ it up close.”

He hummed, trailing his eyes over her figure for a moment. “I see.”

Things between them were good. Very good, he thought. After four months of a strictlyphysical relationship, both of them seemed fairly used to the arrangement. Whenever Dutch sent them out on a job, they made sure to spend the night camping or in a rented room, taking full advantage of the time they had away from everyone else. By that stage, he was quite familiar with her in this new light, and she him. At first things between them were a little awkward, but gradually it became more and more comfortable — more natural — to wake up next to her, to kiss her, and everything that came with it. Now she no longer cared about how he fidgeted like no other while he slept, or how he frequently grumbled incoherent words as he tossed and turned. She quickly discovered that holding him close eased his restlessness.

At first, he had no issue with remaining discreet and platonic at camp. No one would ask questions about them spending time together, considering they had _always_ done so since she and William first joined the gang. But now, he could feel the urges growing, an ever-present need to touch her at any opportunity. He would love to be able to place a hand on her hip when passing her by at camp, or to have her sit on his thigh while sharing a drink. Nothing too intimate when there were prying eyes, but he really _wished_ he could. He realised that was why he liked their time away from camp so much. No one would judge them if he pulled her down to sit in his lap then they found themselves drunk and giggly in some dingy saloon — no one cared and he relished in their apathy. Doing such a thing at camp would be scandalous and he could already picture the hefty voice cracking that would ensue with Dutch’s scolding. He could almost hear him now.

_“My children, mountin’ each other in the undergrowth like animals!”_

Yes, that would definitely go down well.

He slowly pulled himself from the comfortable bed, stretching and then standing to join her at the window. Standing behind her, he peered over her shoulder. “Fellers can see you in your chemise, you know.”

She obviously didn’t care much. “Yeah, and they can see you in your union suit too.”

“Well maybe I don’t want them to see ya.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh c’mon,” he hushed her, snaking his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. “I don’t mean it like _that_.”

“Well what _do_ you mean?”

He lost his train of thought as she let her hands rest on his forearms. “I… don’t rightly know.”

Quite honestly, he didn’t have the words to convey the thoughts swirling around his head. They were surprisingly territorial — not in a controlling manner, but rather a displeasure that someone else might see her in such a wonderful light, that for the moment only he was allowed to see. She didn’t deserve ogling and only recently had he realised how much it angered him when he saw a man eye her up and down in his company.

She let him off with that, already well aware that sometimes words were not his strong point. “I thought you’d be into that considerin’ you’re a bit of a risky exhibitionist.”

“That’s different. It ain’t the same if it’s them leerin’ at you. I wouldn’t mind too much if they could see me takin’ my woman.”

“Oh, _your woman_, is it?”

He lightly trailed his lips against the side of her neck. “You didn’t seem to mind when I called you that last night.”

“That’s _different._”

She was teasing him clearly, using his own words to get a rise out of him. He was wise enough to not take the bait, instead keeping his mouth shut and his chest pressed flush against her back.

“You’ve been very affectionate lately,” she said after a moment of silence. “Any reason as to why?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked if there’s any reason for all the physical affection lately?”

He simply shrugged. “I ain’t sure. I guess I just like it.”

“Alright well we should get goin’. They’ll start gettin’ antsy if we’re away from camp for too long and we’ve to pick up our horses from the stables.”

John didn’t argue, well aware that she was right about the urgency to get back to camp sooner rather than later. They got dressed into their winter clothes before heading out into the cold street below. They were currently holed up in Clarksville, about a half hour south east from camp, so it was a handy enough spot to stay overnight and not have to deal with a long ride back home the following morning. He had to give Maebh credit — the snow lining the streets was quite pleasant to look at, even if he wasn’t overly fond of snow himself. He walked close to her, letting his gloved hand lightly brush against hers. She didn’t seem to mind. Their horses were well looked after when they arrived at the stables, both Dullahan and Applejack kept warm and fed through the night. They paid the stablehands accordingly before leading the mare and the stallion back out into the streets. As they walked back through the city, John noticed Maebh talking to her horse in Irish, praising her with words he couldn’t comprehend.

“_Conas atá tú, mo chuisle?_” she asked the horse, voice soft and affectionate. “_Maith an cailín._”

“What does that mean?” he asked curiously.

“Sorry?”

“That last thing you said. I can’t repeat it but I hear you sayin’ it to her all the time.”

“Oh.” His question made her smile. “I just told her that she’s a good girl.”

“That’s what it means?”

“Yeah. _Maith an cailín _— good girl. ‘_Maith’_ means ‘good’ and _‘cailín’_ means ‘girl’.”

He was about to ask more questions but their conversation was abruptly cut short as someone came sprinting around the street corner and barrelled into them.

John grunted, the wind momentarily knocked from him as he stumbled. Instinctively grabbing the person who struck them, he was taken aback to see that it was a young girl, brown haired and doe eyed in his grasp. “What in the hell—?”

“I’m sorry!” she replied in a panic. She looked between them as she spoke. “There’s a group of men chasin’ me! Can you please help me hide? Please? They’re gonna string me up!”

He shared a look with his companion, jaw clenching at the young girl’s admission. Her words hit far too close to home for him and Maebh wasn’t about to argue. She merely nodded for him to take the lead.

“Of course, miss,” he reassured her before looking around. Behind them he spotted a small alleyway between two buildings. “Follow me.”

With not much time, they hitched the horses and lead her to the lane. He ordered her to sit on the ground and not make a sound while he and Maebh positioned themselves at the alley’s opening, shielding her from view. Only seconds later did a large crowd of angry men come down around the bend, looking around wildly for their target.

“Hey, folks!” one addressed them urgently. “You see a little girl run through here? Brown hair with a red dress?”

“Sure did,” John replied and pointed down the street. “Saw her runnin’ that way towards the stables.”

He was thanked before the group set off on foot. They waited until they were out of sight before speaking to the girl.

“They’re gone,” Maebh said, turning to look at her. “What the hell did they want with you?”

The girl appeared nervous, clasping her hands together. “I uh, I might’a stolen some wallets from them in the saloon. They caught me as I was leavin’ and chased me down the street threatenin’ to kill me, so I ran for my life.” The two of them shared a look while she elaborated. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but they wanted to kill me. Just let me go and I’ll leave town right away, I promise.”

“You stole _all_ their wallets?” he asked, impressed.

“Well, most of ’em anyway. And a couple pocket watches. What, do you want money? If you let me go, I’ve give you anythin’ you want—”

Maebh hushed her. “There’s no need. You really don’t need to pay us. We’d hardly let a group of grown men attack a kid.”

“You should probably get out of town though,” John suggested. “It definitely ain’t safe for you ’round here. You got a horse?”

“She’s back at the saloon. Those bastards jumped me before I could even get to her.”

“Tell you what,” Maebh began, taking on a calming tone. “How ’bout I give you a lift outside of town while my friend here collects your horse from the saloon?”

John’s head whipped around to look at her. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, shut it. How’s she meant to get the bleedin’ horse herself with that mob runnin’ ’round? We can’t just leave her here. We can meet you at the crossroads north of the city.”

John conceded, especially after seeing how serious she was about getting this stranger to safety. Being informed on the horse’s appearance and breed, he and Applejack went to fetch her while Maebh rode with the stranger out of town. Only later when they met up again with her horse in tow were names shared. Mary-Beth was a runaway, moving between towns and robbing to stay afloat and feed herself. A seemingly sweet girl, she admitted that she wasn’t entirely sure what her next move should be. She could only rely on stealing to keep herself alive for so long. As was their way, Maebh suggested coming back to camp where they could offer her a hot meal and some shelter while she figured out what to do next. The generous offer wasn’t lost on the girl and she seemed happy enough to trust them and take it, riding with them back to their camp by Fulton Lake.

Dutch was more than willing to bring Mary-Beth into the fold once John and Maebh explained how they happened upon her. They had a long enough talk in which Dutch asked for her history and whether there were any relatives they might help her find. Apparently there were none, so he made an offer to join the gang. As always, he had no issue taking in those who might need a helping hand and she was certainly one of them. With few options Mary-Beth accepted, though she seemed to genuinely like the other gang members she was introduced to, especially Tilly. Being the same age, the two girls immediately drifted together, talking animatedly as Miss Grimshaw helped set up her lodgings beside the other women. 

As was customary with the addition a new member to the Van der Linde Gang, Dutch introduced the girl with a speech once the sun had set. He encouraged the others to forget work for now and to instead spend the evening drinking and introducing themselves to the latest recruit. They were more than willing to oblige. Wrapping up warm, everyone gathered around the campfires, drinking whiskey to keep the cold at bay. John sat next to Bill, listening to him gush over Copper who rolled on to his back in the hope of belly rubs. Already feeling the effects of the alcohol, John laughed at the display, always finding it amusing to see big, gruff Bill being so soft with the dog. Pádraig made a timid request for some tunes, and William, Uncle, and Pearson were already on their feet getting their instruments. A sing-song ensued, the kind that always lifted everyone’s spirits and made a show of any in-house band John had witnessed while on his travels. Well used to playing together at this stage, they happily took requests and kept the atmosphere cheerful. 

As the trio played another song, the ladies of the camp decided to join them, having spent the last little while getting to know Mary-Beth at the scout campfire. Rowdy and enjoying the atmosphere, they cheered the band on as they arrived. John eyed them curiously as he sipped from his bottle when suddenly his hat was lifted off his head. He jumped with a start as Maebh came up from behind him, his grey gambler hat in her hands and a teasing smirk on her lips. The other ladies laughed at the display.

“Are you drunk yet, Mr. Marston?” she asked, placing the hat atop her head.

He grinned at the display. “I’m gettin’ there, Miss Hennigan, but I do believe that hat ain’t yours.”

“Nope, but it definitely looks better on me.”

“You two should duel over the hat,” Karen suggested. “Like two old school gunslingers.”

Maebh let out a laugh, joining the other women around the campfire. “I’d rather not die tonight, thanks.”

He had half a mind to go get it back himself before Mac and Davey threw their own hats for the women to wear, going along with the joke. The music swiftly began again, and John let her away with taking it. He kind of liked it, seeing her sitting there with _his_ hat on her head. He didn’t really know why, but it brought a smile to his face. The cold nipped at his ears although he didn’t really care all that much.

He was lost in his thoughts when William started up that tune his sister was so fond of, the one about the sailor that John quite liked. Uncle and Pearson played along having been well used to the arrangement by now. Everyone cheered them on and Maebh was already enthusiastically explaining to Mary-Beth about how good this particular song was. John was rather amused by the sight and found his eyes constantly trailing back to her even as the song progressed and the performers grew more and more animated. He couldn’t help it — he found himself watching her intently. The flickering of the campfire’s flames danced in her joyful eyes, a wide grin tugging at her lips. She was transfixed with the music and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was odd, he thought, how he could be so fascinated by someone going about her business. Even as she enjoyed the music and joked with the other women, he couldn’t help but think that she looked so gorgeous as she did so. He ran a hand over his mouth and his heart thumped in his chest. He didn’t even care if anyone saw him like this. Whatever this unfamiliar sensation was, it stirred within him in a heartbeat; a single moment where he found himself smiling at her joy, warm heat filling his chest despite the cold.

It felt different and terrifying all at once, whatever it was. But he couldn’t look away, even as one song ended and another began.

It was later on in the night when John’s noticed his legs becoming wobbly. It was probably safe to say that he had drank his fill. He sat at the camp table nearest to his tent, watching as Maebh and Arthur sitting together by the fire, laughing and chatting animatedly.

John had to admit that he had always been a little bit jealous of Arthur. That man earned respect and approval that he wished to someday experience. Despite this, there wasn’t any bitterness between them. John looked up to him and considered him to be a brother after all. But now as he watched them both, he began to feel a sense pride knowing that _he_ was the one sleeping with Maebh. Though people seemed to think he was an idiot, John liked to sit back and observe others sometimes and he was beginning to realise that Arthur might have feelings for her too, though neither of them seemed willing to actually do something about it. If she chose to sleep with John then surely that meant he was worth something? Maybe he even mattered as much as Arthur did?

He watched intently, the rim of the whiskey bottle cold on his lips. His eyes then trailed over to Abigail, who sat with Tilly and Mary-Beth with a smile on her face. He remembered the days at the beginning of the year when he watched her like a hopeless fool who desperately longed for her attention. Sometimes he still did, but those days weren’t as frequent as they used to be. He liked her — genuinely, he did — but he didn’t approach her as often as he used to. In fact, he seemed to be the only one at camp who approached her at all since she quit being a working girl. Even still, the stretch between his encounters with Abigail grew longer as he became distracted by whatever he felt for one of his closest friends. Unsure with what exactly he should do, he continuously hopped between them without telling either of them about it. It was only in the last month did he stop going to Abigail altogether, not by conscious choice but more so because he was so caught up with what else he had going on.

Arthur was eventually pulled away when Annabelle asked him for a dance and that was when John managed to catch Maebh’s eye. It was apparently enough to bring her over to him.

“I believe this is yours,” she said, taking the hat off her head and putting it on his. “Your ears are probably freezin’.”

“I managed just fine,” he replied, eying her up and down. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching, he got to his feet. “C’mere.”

She watched him curiously and he snuck around to the back of his tent. “What are you up to?”

He couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips at the sight of her. In his foggy mind, he just wanted to touch her and reaffirm that in _some_ way, she was his.

“I just wanna kiss ya,” he admitted, raising the flap at the back of the tent. “But we can’t let them see.”

It was daring and reckless — something she seemed very aware of — but the alcohol made them brave and bold. At least he assumed it was the alcohol.

She followed him inside and he hastily closed them off from the outside world before kissing her like his life depended on it. It was messy and rushed but God, he didn’t want it to end. Her hands clasped the hair on the back of his neck as his blood pumped in his ears.

“This is risky, John,” she managed to get out between kisses, breathing hard. “And you know it.”

“I do,” he reassured her, running his fingers along the waistband of her pants. “But let me touch you. I just wanna make you feel good. We don’t have to do anythin’ else.”

She didn’t fight him, instead consenting with a nod and letting him touch her intimately. He swallowed her moans as his fingers worked her expertly, already knowledgable and familiar with what could have her gasping his name. Anywhere she touched, his skin flared. He was dizzy from whiskey or her, he wasn’t sure which exactly it was. She praised him with hushed whispers, knowing full well that it sent him reeling and working harder to feel her finish on his fingers. When she finally did, her face was buried into his neckand her teeth latched on to his skin to muffle her cries.

Moments later, he lay on his cot, watching her as she stood by the back entrance of the tent, glancing out to see if anyone was looking for her.

She turned to him for a moment with a sympathetic expression. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take care of you too?”

He shook his head. “I’m alright. Another time.”

“Why not rejoin the party with me then?” she asked hopefully. 

“I’d be better off gettin’ some sleep, darlin’. If I drink anymore I’ll regret it tomorrow.”

He met her gaze, wanting desperately to tell her that he wished she could stay here with him instead of returning to the others. They had shared beds so many times now, but this was different, at least to him.

Just like his inability to ask Abigail whether he might become more than a business transaction, he couldn’t say the words to convince Maebh not to leave him.

He watched her leave, wishing he was a braver man who would ask her to stay.

* * *

The opportunity to gain some valour came a week later. 

It was late at night when John started pacing around camp, his mind going a mile a minute. Arthur and William had gone out on a job, the latter finally able to test his healing leg out in the field. Arthur and Maebh had some hired guns job running up north, but she was currently planning a few jobs with the other women when he approached her with a letter. Since she couldn’t join him, she volunteered for William to go and her brother was more than happy to head off with Arthur.

The desire to be near her kept John awake and forced him out into the night air, trying to work up the courage to go into her tent while everyone else slept. Outside her tent, he stood with his hands on his hips, surprised with how his heart was racing. 

Behind him, someone suddenly cleared their throat.

He swung around to find Uncle standing nearby with a bottle in his hand. He wore an excessively sour expression. “Go in there if you’re gonna go in, just stop pacin’ ’round and disturbin’ my drinkin’, Marston!”

“Shut it, old man!” John hissed. “Or you’ll wake the whole damn camp!”

Uncle scoffed. “No one cares where you’re stickin’ your pecker, just shut up and get on with it. You’ve got about as much grace as a drunken bull.”

“You keep your damn mouth shut or I’ll shut it for you, you hear me?”

“You kissin’ Maebh with _that_ mouth?”

John urged him to shut up one more time before the older man walked off, grumbling something about ‘dumb kids’ under his breath.

With the distraction gone and feeling somewhat bold, John raised the cover of her tent and peered inside. She was curled up on her bedroll, wrapped up tightly in the blankets in an attempt to keep out the cold. Throwing another cautious glance over his shoulder, he quickly slipped inside and attempted to wake her without giving her a heart attack.

A gentle hand on her shoulder and a small shake was enough.

Her eyes fluttered open, squinting in confusion and the dim light. She sprang upwards into a sitting position so unexpectedly fast that she nearly clattered into him.

Seeing her panic, he was quick to speak. “It’s just me, Maebh.”

“John?” she said in a thick voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong,” he assured her. “I just wanted to check up on ya.”

She furrowed her brow. “What time is it?”

“Early mornin’. Most of the camp is asleep.”

“Jaysus,” she grumbled under her breath. “Look, I appreciate you checkin’ in, but it’s so late…”

“Sorry. I was, uh...” He cleared just throat and took a seat on the ground. “I was feelin’ lonesome.”

There was a silence, then a huff that she released. “Isn’t Abigail ’round somewhere for that? She might be able t’help you.”

“She had Bill earlier, so she’s pretty tired out.” The lie flowed from his tongue with surprising ease. While he knew he’d slept with her on multiple occasions last month, he had no idea whether Bill or anyone else had since she decided to stop working outside of camp. “And considerin’ your brother ain’t ’round, I figured maybe we could do it at camp for once.”

Maebh ran a hand down her tired face and met his gaze in the dim moonlight. “If we start shaggin’ in my tent, they’re goin’ t’hear us.”

“Not if we stay quiet they won’t.”

“Oh! _You’re_ goin’ t’stay quiet? Good _luck_.”

“I’m more worried ’bout _you_ stayin’ quiet than me.”

“Oh calm down, Marston. It ain’t that big.”

Letting out a small chuckle, he crawled his way over to her and murmured. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again — you really know the way to a man’s heart, Miss Hennigan.”

“More like his pants,” she corrected, removing the arm she had slung across her face. “Haven’t found my way to any hearts yet.”

“Well goddamn,” he breathed and leaned over her so that their lips were only just apart. “How ’bout you show me how well you can get to some other places?”

She blinked at him in surprise. “Did you just... use a line?”

“Depends; did it work?”

“Oh, you’ll have to work a little harder than that now.”

Without missing a beat, he leaned down and began to pepper kisses along the side of her neck. “Why you gotta make me work for it, darlin’?”

“’Cause it’s more fun that way—” She cut herself off with a sharp hiss as he nipped at the skin below her ear. “Hey! Don’t leave any marks there.”

“I won’t, don’t worry. I was bein’ gentle.”

“_Gentle_ my arse.”

“Now there’s a place I would _love_ to be gentle.”

“No chance of that, I can assure you.”

He hushed her with a kiss, one as gentle as he could muster when he was this excited. The familiar sensation of her fiddling with the buttons of his clothes was a welcome one and he grew more and more eager to have her under him again. Despite their campmates not that far away, it felt like their own little world inside that tent. He left hidden marks on her skin, enjoying the thought of someone else seeing what he did to her. Despite the risk with their actions, she seemed playful, giggling quietly when their eyes met in the dim light. Even when he slipped inside her, he had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying out.

“Strugglin’?” she whispered, stroking his cheek gently.

He shook his head despite his quivering biceps. “Nope. Told you I can stay quiet.”

“We’ll see.”

She teasingly ran kisses along his jawline and then down to his neck until she met the collar-like neckerchief she had given him months ago.

“You still wearin’ this thing?” she asked, snapping the red material against his neck.

“You’re just jealous because it looks better on me.”

“Oh, you’re _funny_.”

Before he had a chance to retort, she rolled them over, propping herself atop him while he lay on her bedroll. His hands instinctively placed themselves on her hips, squeezing her harder as she began to move.

“_Goddamn_.” He clenched his teeth together before smirking up at her mischievously. “_Maith an cailín._”

She stopped dead in her tracks above him, staring down at him in shock. “Did you just—”

“I might’a done. Or, well, I mean I tried—”

“But you—”

“Yeah, I—”

“I can’t _believe_ you just tried to call me a ‘good girl’ in Irish while we’re havin’ sex.”

He frowned, worried by her laughter. “What, did I say it wrong?”

Noticing his anxiety, she suppressed her mirth but couldn’t prevent the jovial smiling. “Your pronunciation was awful, but to be fair I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speakin’ a lick of Irish before.”

His cheeks flared red as he spoke. “I’m sorry, it was dumb.”

“Hey, I appreciate the gesture, alright? How ’bout I teach you some phrases later on that you can use? Don’t worry about it for now. Focus on havin’ fun with me.”

Her reassurance calmed him considerably. He gently pressed his fingers tighter into her hips. “Okay, I can do that.”

She began to move again, much to his delight. The pleasure blinded him to the consequences of his actions, but he was beginning to think that he didn’t even care anymore. Whether he found himself passionately entwined in some intimate but forbidden act, or huddled tenderly together as they talked about their days, it felt so _right_. He didn’t have the correct words to describe it — not just the physical pleasure — but the content comfort that came with her company.

“Are you alright?”

He felt her hand on his cheek and opened his eyes, not realising they had been tightlyshut. He met her concerned gaze and nodded. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah. Just checkin’ in on you.”

“Well ain’t you sweet. Come down here.”

He pulled her down so that he could press his lips against hers, pleasure flaring in his abdomen as she moved faster. The sensations left him dizzy, most certainly drunk this time on her alone. He wanted so desperately to cry out and didn’t care if the camp heard. Part of him wanted them to know, to hear how good she made him feel. Maybe he _was_ going mad. He swiftly sat up so that he could hold her close as they chased their release. When they had taken their time and explored each other until they could hold back no more, they came together, John managing to spend on his own stomach, shaking and breathing hard.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, basking in the afterglow of their intimacy and holding each other close.

“D’you think they heard us?” she whispered into the darkness sometime later.

He shook his head. “I think we’re safe. Don’t worry about it.”

That seemed to be enough reassurance for her. She kept quiet while he cleaned himself off, suddenly feeling his heart — which had finally calmed — speeding up yet again. Uncertain as to why, he cleared his throat and looked at her. God, he didn’t want to go back to his tent alone, not like the last time. He wanted to stay here with her.

“Can I stay?” he asked, a little surprised by the hesitance in his voice. Or was it uncertainty? Anxiety? Hell if he knew. When she looked at him skeptically, he continued on. “It’s just… It’s a cold night; we could keep each other warm.”

“Alright. But you’ll have to go before people start wakin’ up, and no more funny business, right? I’m too wrecked for another round this time.”

“That ain’t why I wanna stay.”

“No?”

He shook his head, lying down next to her on the bedroll. He offered her his arm and was relieved when she let him wrap it around her while she laid her head on his chest. “I do actually enjoy your company, y’know. Not just for sex.”

“I suppose.”

“Why you actin’ like we ain’t been friends for years?”

She snorted. “I’m only jokin’ with you. Relax. What has you so sensitive?”

Her tone wasn’t joking anymore, instead taking on a concerned edge that he could appreciate. “Nothin’, I just don’t want you thinkin’ I’m only usin’ you.”

“I mean we _are_ sorta usin’ each other in a way. Not that that’s a bad thing. We keep each other company and have fun while we do it.”

“Right,” he agreed, though his voice didn’t sound very convincing. “Of course.”

Suddenly, she lifted her head to look him in the eye, hand splayed out on his chest. “Are you alright? You seem a bit off.”

Was he okay? The more time passed, the less sure he was about himself. He couldn’t give her an answer, so he thought of the first thing that came to his head. “Actually uh, Uncle knows.”

“Uncle knows…?”

“About _us_.”

“Wow, wait _what?”_

Her eyes were wide, staring at him in genuine horror as he tried to explain himself. “Relax. He just saw me comin’ to your tent and made some stupid comment. He won’t say nothin’—”

“How do you know that?”

“I just _do_,” he snapped, then paused and shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Look, there ain’t nothin’ to worry about, alright? I’ll make sure he doesn’t tell anyone. Don’t be thinkin’ ’bout it.”

“Okay, good.” She folded her hands on his chest and rested her chin atop them. “I don’t want people findin’ out ’bout this, y’know?”

He gulped. “Can I ask why?”

“If we’re just sleepin’ together then I don’t think it’s anyone else’s business. I like how it’s a thing just between you and me. Plus, if we tell people they’ll start gossipin’ and assumin’ that there’s more goin’ on. Can you imagine what Dutch and Hosea would say?”

“I guess so.”

He wasn’t sure why her words bothered him so much, but the more she spoke, the more unsettled he grew.

“Are you _sure_ you’re alright, John?”

“Yeah. I’m just thinkin’ about what you said.”

“I promise this won’t interfere with tryin’ to get somethin’ goin’ with Abigail.”

He would have smiled at her attempt to extinguish his doubts, but her words did theexact opposite. When the thought once would have made him content, now all it did was make him confused.

“I don’t think about that much anymore,” he admitted, voice thick. “Not lately.”

“How come?”

“I don’t rightly know.”

A silence hung in the air while they watched each other. Studying him carefully, Maebh trailed a finger along his jaw, lightly stroking his stubbled skin in a gesture that made him relax somewhat. 

He let out a sigh, eyelids growing heavy. “I like it when you’re this soft with me. It… feels nice.”

The smile she gave him was gentle, one that was for him and him alone. “Who knew John Marston was such a big fan of cuddling.”

“With you, maybe.”

“We’ve already slept together a lot so you can stop it with the lines.”

“That’s not why I’m sayin’ them.”

He shouldn’t have hesitated after saying that. He should have kept talking, strung together some truthful sentence comprised of the different emotions he couldn’t dissuade. He wasn’t even sure _what_ he needed to say, what he _felt_, or what he _really_ wanted. But he said nothing, transfixed by the way she was looking back at him.

“So popular with the ladies,” she said, that sarcastic edge still there, but she appeared unaware of his struggle. “We should get some sleep before you have to go back to your own tent.”

He agreed, following her lead as she turned to lie down beside him. He moved into a comfortable position with his chest pressed against her back and a protective arm wrapped around her waist. He pulled her close and they quickly settled into each other.

They were silent for a few moments, his eyes shut and breathing even, when she spoke up again. “D’ye ever think we should just… stop doin’ this?”

From his position he couldn’t see her face, but he merely laid several kisses on the back of her neck. “No, not really. Why?”

There was another moment of silence between them. The cool night breeze gently howled, easing the camp’s lodgers into a deeper sleep. “It’s nothin’. I was just wonderin’.”

“Get some sleep,” he urged her, legs tangling with hers. “Or you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, John.”

The smell of her hair washed over him and, combined with the gentle lull of the night’s light air, was already easing him into a much needed sleep. Right now, the last thing he wanted to do was sneak back to his own lonely tent.

“Goodnight, Maebh.”

* * *

  
John had reached his limit.

William and Arthur returned the day after his impromptu sleepover with Maebh, ruining his chases of repeating the process or sharing another private and tender moment with her. A few more days passed. He found himself smoking profusely and pacing around camp like a caged animal. While the Christmas atmosphere grew around camp with the gang setting up decorations and buying gifts, he constantly found his mind drifting back to his conversation with Maebh and the private nature of their relationship. It was convenient at first, an ideal way for him to ease his woes over Abigail. But now he found it to be doing the opposite.

His thoughts regularly drifted to Maebh as he watched her walking about the camp, doing mundane chores or chatting with the other women. He wasn’t sure at what point in the last few months had he stopped looking at his friend as just that, but now she had the ability to give him goosebumps just by standing next to him.

His thoughts and feelings were so jumbled, so lost and afraid of these new sensations that made him want to do and say foolish things. But amidst all the uncertainty and heightened desires, he realised that he really wanted to experience those things with her. He wanted to be able to hold her hand at camp, wanted to have her sit in his lap while they drank by the fire, wanted to be able to have her in his own tent instead of sneaking off to a nearby town. More importantly, he just wanted to be with her. He wanted to talk with her, share his worries and thoughts while also hearing hers. He wanted to make her laugh more and listen to stories about her family while she taught him Irish phrases he had no hope of correctly pronouncing.

He had no optimism with Abigail, but surely him and Maebh shared something that could become good, something worth trying out.

She was sitting by the fire with her brother, polishing off the last of the bland stew they had for dinner. John sat in his tent, trying to build up the courage to finally talk to her. He didn’t care if William was there — he would pull her away, speak to her privately and tell her that regardless of whatever physical thing they had going on, he wanted more.

“Screw it,” he said, stamping out his cigarette with his foot and walking out into the cold air.

He only got a few steps before someone cut across him.

“John?” Abigail began, wrapped up warm in her thick winter clothes. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

“I’m busy right now, Abigail,” he replied, far more short than he intended to be. “Maybe later.” 

He went to move around her, but she wasn’t having it. “It’s important.”

He looked at her, noticing her serious yet somewhat worried expression. He felt immediately bad for snapping at her, even if he was anxious about talking to Maebh. “Are you alright?”

“I just…” She paused, stuttering over her words slightly. “Well, I need to tell you somethin’ that’s real’ important and I’ve been meanin’ to for a while.”

John was already getting distracted, constantly looking over her shoulder at Maebh as some of Abigail’s words drifted in and out of focus.

“This ain’t easy for me to tell you … I’ve been meanin’ to talk to you but I was nervous … I wanted to be sure before I said anythin’ … I counted back the weeks and … Are you listenin’ to me, John Marston?”

He snapped back into focus, looking at her. “Uh, sure, yeah. You were sayin’?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence. Horrific, uncomfortable silence soured the air between them. 

John felt his heart race, panic setting in as he looked at her. She stared back, gaze unrelenting. “Uh, what did you say?”

“I’m _pregnant_,” she repeated, equally ashamed and frustrated by his reaction. “With your child, John.”

He said nothing, his head already woozy and throat closing as he comprehended the statement. Before he realised what he was doing, words of denial fell from his lips. “No, that… that can’t be right—”

Her hands was on his in an instant, pulling them to her belly and pressing them there, allowing him to feel the evident bump hidden beneath her clothes. As though forced to feel the searing pain of flickering flames, he wretched his hands away.

The idiotic imaginings John had been painting in his mind not moments before began to crumble. His hopes were dashed as he desperately tried to process this information.

What he wanted no longer mattered.

What he wanted would never come to be.

He had been foolish to ever think otherwise.


	25. In Thunder, Lightning, or in Rain?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout of the pregnancy announcement brings with it many changes for the gang, as well as John and Maebh's confusing relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howiyas. Posting this a lil earlier than usual, but it was finished (thankfully) on time! I'm not yet back in work (thank God because feck retail during a pandemic, amirite?) so it gave me more time to work on this. I promise that there is more of Arthur to come very soon but it's kinda just where we are in the timeline right now. I'm also down my co-writer/beta for the next while so my apologies if I missed more writing mistakes in this than usual...  
As always, thanks for reading and for the continued support! It means a whole bunch to me.
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “The Path (Vacant)” — Gustavo Santaolalla, “Whiskey And You” — Chris Stapleton, “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” — Hank Williams, “I Hung My Head” — Sting

“What the hell is goin’ on over there?”

William’s words startled Maebh. She followed his line of sight to see what exactly he was referring to. John and Abigail stood by the former’s tent, looking to be in some sort of heated argument, the likes of which she had never seen exchanged between them before. She was a little ashamed to admit that her first instinct was to think that Abigail had somehow found out about their affair and approached John to express her intense discontent over the pairing. 

_Did she have a right to be mad?_ she thought. _Are her and John actually courtin’ now in some regard? Did John lie to me about not wantin’ to pursue her anymore? Oh God, what if Abigail hates me?_

Anxious thoughts swirled around her mind. The very thought of losing her friendship with Abigail or causing a rift with John and the woman he really wanted left her stumped. She would never have agreed to anything with him if she knew it would cause so much trouble.

“That can’t be good,” she noted as their emotions seemed to escalate. “What if that’s about me?”

William raised a brow. “You?”

“What if Abigail knows we’re sleepin’ together?”

“It’s not as if he was courtin’ Abigail too. I don’t think she’s much to be mad about.”

“Should we do somethin’?”

“Probably. I’ve never seen them havin’ a go at each other like _that_. Just let me do the talkin’ in case it _is_ anythin’ to do with you.”

Maebh caught sight of Arthur and Dutch looking on too, eying them carefully with bewildered expressions.

As John’s voice grew louder, the siblings were on their feet, empty bowls abandoned as they made their way over to the pair.

“Everythin’ alright here?” William asked evenly, looking between them.

“We’re fine,” John snapped. “Mind your goddamn business, Hennigan.”

“_Hey_,” Maebh cut in, taking a step forward. “There’s no need for that, John.”

Maebh firmly planted herself on Abigail’s right while William took up her left, keeping himself calm despite being on the receiving end of a sharp tongue for no reason.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Abigail added, defending the Irishman. “He didn’t do nothin’ to deserve it!”

“Are you alright, Abby?” William asked.

The young woman’s eyes expressed what her words could not. They seemed so tired and hurt with whatever they were disagreeing about. “Well, I—”

Before she could get a word in edgeways, John gave William a forceful shove backwards. “I told you it ain’t none of your damn business!”

None of them were ready for it except William himself, who stood calmly composed while Maebh and Abigail put firm hands on John’s chest to hold him back.

“Put your hands on me again, Marston,” William replied, a fire burning behind his eyes. “_Gewon_. Give me an excuse.”

Maebh was already seeing red. John and William had scraped before, but this seemed completely different. The fact he put his hands on her brother in the first place was enough to get her on the defensive.

“_Don’t_ touch him,” she all but growled, glaring as she forced him to take a few steps back. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Would you four care to tell me what all this yellin’ is about?”

Maebh whipped her head around to see Dutch standing there, arms folded across his chest. Arthur and Hosea stood with him, visibly skeptical of whatever the hell was going on.

“It’s nothin’,” John said, visibly eager for the conversation to end. The way he was looking at Abigail only fuelled more of Maebh’s anger. “Nothin’ at all.”

“It sure as hell don’t sound like nothin’,” Arthur replied, visibly miffed. “With all the damn fightin’.”

“Are you alright, Miss Roberts?” Hosea asked her, taking a slightly more careful approach.

Abigail’s face fell at his gentleness, folding her arms over her stomach and hanging her head. Maebh had never seen her like this before. She always held herself so highly, unafraid and ready to defend herself if needs be. But now she seemed almost fearful of whatever the argument was over. “I…”

Dutch looked between them. “Did Mr. Marston hurt you, dear?”

“_No_,” she defended him immediately. “He didn’t do anythin’ on purpose—”

“I didn’t _do_ anythin’ at all!” John insisted.

Dutch pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Well then would someone tell us what the hell is goin’ on?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence fell upon the small group. All of them were lost for words, even Maebh. She turned her attention from John to Abigail, staring at her in disbelief as the words fell from her lips. Of all the things she expected, she never even considered the idea of a damn _baby_.Jesus, here she was regularly sleeping with a man who got one of her friends pregnant. She eyed William, noting the grim expression on his face. He warned her something like this would happen, and yet it appeared he had warned the wrong woman. She didn’t have words, completely blindsided with the revelation as she realised that John — her friend and the man she was sleeping with — was going to be a father.

“I’m pregnant,” Abigail repeated, trying to keep her voice steady. “With John’s child.”

All eyes were on him then, questioning gazes grilling him intently.

“Like hell it’s mine,” he retorted, suddenly speaking to Maebh directly. “It _ain’t_ mine!”

“Miss Roberts,” Hosea began, choosing his words carefully. “I don’t mean to accuse you, but are you sure it was John who got you with child?”

The dark-haired woman was firm in her response. “Yes, it couldn’t have been anyone else.”

Her certainty wasn’t enough for John. “Like hell it couldn’t. With a profession like _yours_, it could be anybody’s!”

Before Maebh could get a chance to tell him off herself, Arthur firmly planted himself next to his brother and spoke lowly. “You better watch your damn mouth, Marston! Say somethin’ else like that and I’ll throw you outta here myself!”

“But she’s tryin’ to pin this on me when we ain’t slept together in over a month. Ain’t no chance it’s mine.”

“Like _hell_ it ain’t,” Abigail replied in irritation. “I counted back the weeks and I wasn’t sleepin’ with anyone else but you then.”

“How far along are you?” Hosea questioned her.

“’Bout fourteen weeks, give or take. And we was certainly sleepin’ together in September, wasn’t we, John? I’d quit bein’ a workin’ women outside camp at that stage and you were the only one I was with ’round here, so you can quit paintin’ me like some opportunistic whore. I’ve been earnin’ my keep by thievin’ with Maebh and the other women for months.”

Visibly stumped by her statement, John could only look between her and Maebh. That was enough confirmation for her and she forced herself to look away from his desperate gaze. She didn’t know whether he expected her to believe his lies, that this wasn’t his doing when it most certainly _was_. Abigail had no reason to lie about the baby’s father and she already knew that she had left her previous occupation at that point. Her claims checked out as far as Maebh was concerned, though she never questioned her honesty in the first place.

“You kept it a secret all this time?” Dutch asked.

“I was nervous ’bout tellin’ him. With a reaction like that, can you _blame_ me?”

“Not really,” William replied dryly. “He’s shown himself to be a top-class wanker with this reaction.”

As John took a threatening step in his direction, a shove from Arthur kept him at bay. “Easy, cowboy. You ain’t goin’ near either of them. It ain’t his fault you made a goddamn mess of things.”

“This ain’t no mess, Arthur,” Dutch cut in, wrapping an arm around Abigail. “Ain’t no mess at all. A child is the truest of gifts and startin’ a family is an honour in itself. My dear, I don't want you to worry one bit. All of us in this camp will do right by you and protect that child o’yours. We may be outlaws, but we ain’t degenerates. You have my word.”

“Dutch is right,” Hosea agreed, positive but still unamused with John’s reaction. “Congratulations are in order, Abigail. You’ll both do a fine job of raisin’ this baby once John takes his head outta his ass.”

“I ain’t havin’ nothin’ to do with what ain’t mine,” he responded. “I ain’t father material, Hosea.”

“I don’t wanna hear another word outta you. You’ve said enough to hurt this woman’s feelin’s. In case you ain’t noticed, there’s _two_ of you involved in this, so you best start actin’ like a goddamn man and not a boy.” Hosea shook his head, waving a dismissive hand while Dutch began to guide Abigail away. “Maebh, take him into town and get him to cool off. You ain’t comin’ back into this camp until you’re able to hold a conversation about this baby without losin’ it.”

Clearly hurt by his words, John began to plead with the other man in charge. “Dutch—”

“He’s right, son,” Dutch answered with a disappointed expression. “I have to admit, I expected better from you. Maybe Miss Maebh can talk some sense into ya.”

“I didn’t mean for things to end up like this,” Abigail said, voice shaking slightly. “I didn’t mean to cause any arguments.”

“No apologies necessary, my dear. Let’s go sit down and get you some water. You’re best stayin’ calm, especially with a baby in your belly.”

“C’mon,” Maebh insisted, grabbing John by the arm. “Time to go calm down.”

“Are you sure you’re alright goin’ with him?” William asked, hanging back as the two older men guided Abigail away.

“I’ll be grand. I’ll try not be gone too long.”

“C’mon, kid,” Arthur urged him gently. “Your sister has dealt with worse. Let’s go back to the others.”

William conceded, not before casually calling after his sister over his shoulder. “_Ná bí á phógadh!”_

She rolled her eyes as she hoisted herself into her saddle. “_Dún do bhéal!”_

“We’ll see you soon,” Arthur said, giving her a small smile. “Don’t take all night.”

The short ride into Fulton with John was tense and silent. At that point, Maebh was too angry with his vehement denial to speak up. When they arrived at the local saloon, she grabbed a table near the back, away from other patrons. At the bar, she brushed off the barman’s offer for a room — given what they usually came in there for — and awkwardly requested two beers instead. When she rejoined her friend at the table, he wore a pout, arms folded across his chest as his knee bounced erratically.

Things between them — however casual and lacking in commitment — had been good. She hadn’t exactly been expecting anything out of their arrangement, but spending time alone with him had been an unexpected comfort. She supposed Hosea had been right about holding on to the bond they shared. Their friendship and genuine care for each other made a good base for a physical relationship. John never made her feel used or dirty, or judged her for having sex with him in the first place. He treated her well and was surprisingly gentle with her despite his scrappy and wily nature. She really did feel good about herself — and even about them — thanks to the last few months together, but despite that, she never exactly thought ahead. John seemed to bring it up or think on it more than she did. She never thought beyond what they were doing, but surely it had to end at some point? Though she never imagined that _this_ was how it would all go down. Her hope was that he would gain the courage to finally pursue Abigail and then call off his physical relationship with Maebh, or maybe Arthur would profess his love for her out of nowhere and _she_ would be the one to end things.

_Wishful thinkin’ there, Maebh. Really wishful…_

When her and John started this unusual relationship of theirs, she wasn’t expecting for him to be as caring as he was, so perhaps it was inevitable that their bond would grow even stronger than before. She really cared about him — she truly did — and maybe the physical connection was what pushed them that little bit further. Spending time with him alone had become one of her favourite pastimes. Even still, knowing how it felt when she looked at Arthur, it didn’t really feel the same with John. She had contemplated it before, whether there could be something _more_ there, but they never went into this looking for more, only desperate for comfort while longing after two unattainable people. Maybe if she wasn’t so head over heels for Arthur, she could learn to love John as more than a friend. Though that meant little when he was too concerned with Abigail to be available emotionally. If things were substantially different, maybe _they_ could be different too, but that’s not how their lives were going to play out. God, things were confusing as hell.

John suddenly interrupted her fond thoughts in a gruff voice. “What the hell did your brother say when we were leavin’?”

Maebh glared at him, forcing herself not to slam his beer bottle down on to the table as illusions of developing feelings for him faded from her mind’s eye. She stood over him, visibly unamused. “He told me not to be kissin’ you.”

He gulped. “Right…”

She moved to sit opposite him when he grabbed her hand, not forcefully, but enough to stop her in her tracks. He looked up at her, every ounce of anger in his body replaced with what appeared to be sadness. His brown eyes were vulnerable, conveying what his words couldn’t. She certainly got the message. With a sigh she pulled her chair around the table so that she could sit down next to him. He hesitantly let go of her hand as she began to speak, but kept his knee pressed against hers to retain some semblance of physical intimacy.

“Before we get into this, I just want’a be really firm with you, John. I know we’re friends, but if you _ever_ unjustly put a hand on my brother again, I’ll have no problem cuttin’ it off, you hear me?”

“Yeah.”

“_Do you?”_

“I said yeah!” He frowned, trying to settle down. “I understand.”

“Good.” There was a silence between them. Maebh took a sip of her drink before eventually breaking it. “So, you’re goin’ t’be a da.”

John shook his head, staring down at his own drink. “If she’s tellin’ the truth.”

“Oh come _on_. Abigail isn’t lyin’. The two of you _were_ havin’ sex in September and you _know_ you were. What would she be lyin’ for?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, voice rough. “To trap me or somethin’.”

“Jaysus, not to be mean, but you haven’t exactly reacted to this positively. Why would she want to trap someone who doesn’t want kids and has no problem tellin’ her off?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly. You need to use your head a bit more _evidently_.”

“I’m aware,” he grumbled sadly. “I don’t need you to berate me for it either.”

“I’m not here to _berate_ you, but if you think I’m goin’ to let you off for how you spoke to her then you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”

Though he wasn’t as angry as before, he was still visibly irritated. “Then what do you suggest I do, Maebh?”

“I think you should go back into camp when you’ve calmed down and talk to Abigail about how the two of you will raise this baby.”

“You gotta be kiddin’ me—”

“What’s the issue here?”

“What, you mean besides the concept of bringin’ a _baby_ into the gang? You know how we live. It ain’t no place for a child and I sure as hell ain’t no father.”

Maebh sighed heavily. “Alright, that’s fair, but you _care_ about her. You do, don’t you? I know that you weren’t just visitin’ her for the sake of satin’ your physical needs. Sure the whole bloody reason we ended up in bed together was ’cause we couldn’t have the ones we really wanted. There’s certainly way worse people to get pregnant. At least there’s _something_ there between the two of you. Even if — for whatever weird reason — you’ve changed your mind and you don’t want to be with Abigail, you still have to help her with the baby. It’s as much your responsibility as it is hers.”

“How many times do I gotta say that I ain’t fit to be a father?”

“What makes you think that?” she asked, genuinely curious. “Look, you’re rough around the edges but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be a good da. I think you’d do a great job.”

“Does no one care about what _I_ want?” he demanded, suddenly quite passionate. “Huh? What if I don’t wanna be a father? What if I don’t want Abigail no more?”

“Do you think Abigail wants _this? _Really? I’m pretty sure this isn’t ideal for her either but she has to make do and so do you.”

He shook his head, looking away from her. “So you’re sayin’ what I want doesn’t matter.”

“I didn’t say that — I’m sayin’ that unfortunately you have to live with what you’ve got now. Whether either of you like it or not, there’s going to be a baby in camp by next summer and it’s goin’ t’be made of you and Abigail, so it’s up to both of you to raise it. And the whole gang will be there for you’s too. We won’t have you’s doin’ this on your own.”

John hung his head, eyes hidden behind loose strands of hair. His clasped hands fidgeted restlessly and she eyed him with cautious curiosity. Even if she was still livid with his earlier outburst, Maebh couldn’t help the desire to ease his suffering, wishing a hug and some comforting words would be enough to calm him down and ease his woes. It couldn’t be easy, suddenly finding out that you’re having a child in a situation that isn’t particularly ideal. Even still, she knew of his upbringing — or lack thereof, really — and how it must be playing on his sensitive mind.

“Is this ’cause of your da?” she inquired.

John’s tone held an edge that insisted she didn’t push his buttons. “I don’t wanna talk about him.”

“Alright, well…”

“What about us?”

Maebh raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“_Us?”_ he repeated and raised his head to look at her properly. “Can we still… you know? Be together?”

She was blindsided by his questioning, not even aware that _this_ was an issue that was playing on his mind. “John, I… I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”

Her words seemed to cut through him, his face flinching ever so slightly. “Why not?”

“You should be tryin’ to make things work with the actual woman you care about — not _me_.”

“But what if I don’t wanna stop?”

She slowly shook her head, the air between them even more tense than before. “Look, I get it, alright? Things are easy with me ’cause there’s no responsibility or commitment or any of that, but you’ve an opportunity to finally be with who you’ve wanted all this time. You’d be a fool to pass this up.”

“But I… I don’t—”

“I’m not offended,” she quickly reassured him, placing her hand on top of his. “I promise. There’s a vast difference from our casual encounters and how you feel about Abigail. It’s about time you gave it a proper go with her. I get that it’s scary but you’ve a great opportunity here to start a family and I don’t want to come between that.”

He was stumped, staring at her with that same desperate expression he had back at camp when he insisted that it wasn’t his child growing within Abigail. She admitted that she would genuinely miss the nights with John that used to fill an emptiness in her chest and provide her with much needed solace and affection, but there was a bigger picture to look at. She would be a bad friend to withhold him from who he cared about for the sake of possibly developing feelings for each other down the line. It was selfish and she wasn’t about to act on it. John deserved some happiness. Both Abigail and her unborn child deserved a father and she would help to ensure that in whatever way she could.

John was quiet, letting her words sink in a moment before he shook his head, leaned forward in his chair, and pressed his lips firmly against hers. She hadn’t been expecting him to kiss her, especially with the passion that was all at once flowing out of him. Momentarily stumped, she sat there in shock. It reminded her of the first time he kissed her, so desperate and needy in the most inviting of ways. His hands cupped her cheeks and she began to kiss him back, letting his tongue slip into her mouth with a low groan. The taste of his beer sent shivers running up her spine as he skilfully left her shuddering. She had to give him credit where it was due — he knew exactly how to play her. 

Eventually after getting a hold of herself, she broke the kiss, forehead resting against his as they breathed heavily in unison. “What was that for?”

“I needed to kiss you again,” he replied honestly, rough thumbs lightly stroking her cheeks. “I didn’t realise that night in your tent would be the last time. I really don’t want it to be.”

He was on her again, hungrily claiming her lips for himself. He didn’t hold back, uncaring of the crowded saloon and the patrons that were surely throwing glances their way. He kissed her deep and carelessly, knowing that he wouldn’t get a chance again.

“Spend the night with me, Maebh,” he whispered, moving down to kiss at the exposed skin where he neck met her shoulder. “Please, I don’t want you to go back there without me. Just… _please?_ Let me have you. I want you so bad.”

Overwhelmed with his ardour, Maebh forgot where they were, losing herself in his emotion and how his breathless kiss turned her brain to mush. His words weren’t lecherous or seductive, rather they were uttered with an almost terrified vulnerability that shook her to her core. And even still, his kisses were almost demanding, urging her to feel his desperate need to have her as he had so many times before

“It’s not right,” she replied, though the tremor in her voice made her internal struggle apparent. Her hands were already tangled in his hair. “We shouldn’t and they’ll know—”

“I don’t care what they think and I don’t care if they know how I feel about you. Goddammit, Maebh! I—”

“Excuse me, folks?”

Maebh’s eyes flew open to see the bartender standing over them with an awkward grimace plastered on his face. She went to move away, but the hold John had on her made it impossible.

“Care for a room?” the man asked, holding up a key. “You can do what you want up there but right now you’re givin’ my customers a show. If you wouldn’t mind…”

She was all of a sudden overwhelmed with the decision placed in front of her. Things had changed with Abigail’s announcement and what they were doing no longer felt right to her.

Oh, she could see the desperation in his brown eyes, pupils blown wide. He would take that key. He would gladly rip it from the bartender’s hand so that they could be alone. He would keep her there all night to try solve his problems in the most unproductive way while simultaneously letting the whole camp know that they spent the night together.

Even if she would love to do it, she wasn’t about to let him ruin the opportunity he had.

Before he could answer, she was the first one to address the bartender. “It’s alright, thank you. We were just leavin’ anyway.”

With a small nod and a skeptical look, he left them, returning to the bar while John stared at her. “Wait, what? Hold on a second—”

Maebh was on her feet, slipping out of his hold and pulling her heavy coat back on. “John, we can’t do this anymore. You’ve to focus on Abigail and your kid and it isn’t right for you to be runnin’ ’round with me on the side. I’m not goin’ to let you ruin your chances over some easy ride ’cause you’re feelin’ needy right now.”

“I don’t think you’re an easy ride. Don’t say that—”

“Look, just come back to camp. Rest up and then talk to Abigail in the mornin’, alright?”

He looked up at her, hair messy and lips wet. She almost bit her lip at the sight of him. God, he was handsome. Part of her wished she was uncaring enough to let him have her again for the umpteenth time, to say screw everyone else, she deserves some attention and another night of unbridled passion, but it simply didn’t feel right to do. Things had changed in the most extreme of ways and doing anything intimate with him now held even more consequence.

“No,” John replied quietly with an ounce of dejection. “I’ll stay here.”

“John—”

He cut her off, looking down at the floor. “I’d rather be here on my own than go back. I’ll get some sleep and be back in the mornin’.”

“You promise?”

“O’course I promise. I’m not about to run off on you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back tonight with me?”

He nodded but remained silent while she buttoned up her coat. Standing for a moment and hoping he would change his mind, she eventually resigned herself to the fact he wouldn’t. She picked up her satchel and moved to leave.

“Maebh?” She turned to look at him as he continued on. “If you… well, change your mind at all, I’ll be here.”

With a small nod, she left the saloon and made the short ride back to camp in the lightly falling snow alone.

It was late in the evening when she got back but most of the camp was still up, probably still discussing the events that had occurred not long before.

As she was hitching Dullahan to her favourite post, she heard footsteps approaching before Arthur announced himself. “Where’s Marston?”

Ah yes, _Arthur_. She couldn’t wait to continue to be completely lovesick after him now that she had no means of finding emotional or physical comfort from another. How was it that he can even look so ridiculously handsome even in a big, blue winter coat?

_Can this day just be over now? Please? Is that too much to ask?_

She shook her head and leaned back against the hitching post. “He’s stayin’ in town overnight. Said he needs’ta clear his head and be alone. He should be back in the mornin’.”

Arthur pouted as he plopped a cigarette between his lips and lit a match off his boot. “And you trust him to do that?”

“What else is he goin’ to do? Run off?”

“Hopefully not.” He paused to take a drag off the cigarette before passing it to her. “That boy doesn’t realise how good he has it.”

“I did tell him the same thing. I think he’s just scared — he doesn’t think he’ll be a good da so he won’t even entertain the idea.”

“I thought he liked Abigail,” Arthur replied, visibly confused. “And now all of a sudden he doesn’t wanna know ’cause he got her pregnant. If this is how he deals with it then she deserves better.”

Maebh knew that Arthur was speaking for experience. Hell, Arthur was able to step up and help support a woman he didn’t even have romantic feelings for in order to ensure that his son had a father. His standards were high, and she wondered how he would react if John didn’t meet them.

She was quick to reassure him that said discussion was certainly had. “I did tell him that even if he doesn’t want to be with her that he needs to be around for that baby regardless.”

Arthur let out a huff. “If he doesn’t, he’ll certainly have to deal with the entirety of camp judgin’ him. Dutch and Hosea won’t take too kindly to that.”

“Or you.”

He paused and met her gaze. “Right. Me neither. Abigail is a sweet girl and she deserves a lot better than gettin’ abused ’cause of her former profession. Hell, Miss Grimshaw used to be a workin’ woman, and if Marston ever had the nerve to talk to her like that, she’d slap him so hard he’d end up in New York.”

“Well, hopefully he realises what he has to do and comes home in the mornin’ to sort it out.”

“Hopefully.” He eyed her as she took a long puff off his cigarette and smirked. “Did you have a tough time talkin’ to him?”

“A little,” she admitted though was certainly not going to tell him about John’s proposition. “You know how he gets when he’s scared. I’m not justifyin’ how he spoke to her, but he’s blindsided and worried.”

“Well he certainly ain’t the first to be in this situation, but he doesn’t realise how lucky he has it. He’s got a good woman who cares about him and a baby on the way. It won’t be easy with the way we live, but we’ll help keep that baby safe. A lot of men would kill for a family.” He took a deep breath, calming down as he grew a bit irritated. “Anyway, are you alright? I stayed up to make sure he didn’t go off on you too.”

She laughed off his concern and tried to ignore the way her heart fluttered at his gesture. Oh Lord, this man was surely going to be the end of her. “No, he didn’t do any of that, but thank you. Bar bein’ exhausted I’m fine, just a bit surprised by it all I suppose.”

“So are you sure you don’t need me to punch him or nothin’?”

“Definitely not.”

“A shame,” he tutted with a shake of his head. “I would’ve enjoyed that.”

“Oh, c’mon. You love John really.”

“Awh, I’m only jokin’. But it’s a good thing you were the one Hosea made go with him. He’d be more inclined to listen to you than me and I’d just get mad. Are you sure there ain’t nothin’ I can do for you?”

Her thoughts went wild at his offer, however innocent it really was. Nowadays when she needed some down time, she went to John, but with so many things changing so drastically, their usual activities were well and truly out the window. Feeling a bit brave, she shrugged before suggesting spending some time with Arthur. “Tell you what, it’s been a while since me and you got food together. How about we do it again soon?”

The idea seemed to please him. “Sounds good. We should see if Huron has good food next time we’re called up there for work.” He paused, smiling widely before clearing his throat and scratching at the back of his neck. “Anyways, I won’t keep you. Your brother is your tent with Miss Roberts, so I’m sure they’re expectin’ you.”

She thanked Arthur before watching him leave, eyes trailing up and down his figure. She sighed, realising that she was still well and truly fascinated by that man. Hurrying straight to her tent to avoid any further questioning from other gang mates, she found William and Abigail exactly as Arthur said, talking quietly together. She had to admit, the sight of him cautiously resting his hand on her little baby bump brought a smile to her face.

“Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ all broody?” she teased as she joined them inside the tent.

He chuckled. “I just wanted to see if I could feel the baby movin’.”

“I can barely feel ’em,” Abigail clarified, looking at the young man in amusement. “But he was curious.”

Apparently, he had kept her company the entire time Maebh was in Fulton with John, trying his best to reassure her that everything would be alright eventually.

“I told her that if there was anyone who could get through to Marston,” he explained to his sister. “It was you.”

Though a little calmer now, it was obvious that Abigail was deeply saddened by John’s reaction. She insisted that she hadn’t expected much, but his outright denial had shaken her. She was still so young and now dealing with something that terrified even Maebh. The fact he chose to spend the night in town didn’t seem to ease her worries.

Abigail wiped her tear-stained cheeks as she spoke. “I care about him, y’know? I think part of the reason why I kept lettin’ him sleep with me after I quit workin’ was because I enjoyed it. I liked… bein’ with him. I know he doesn’t believe me, but I would never do somethin’ like this on purpose. I wouldn’t use a poor baby as a weapon.”

If there was anyone who understood her confusing feelings, it was certainly Maebh. She offered her whatever reassurance she could. “He cares about you too. He’s just shite at showin’ it.”

“I ain’t so sure about that.”

“No, he genuinely does. He told me and all, he’s just shite with women.”

Abigail seemed hesitantly intrigued by her words. “Really?”

“He does care about you, Abby. I promise. Just give him a bit of time to adjust to bein’ a da. And no matter what he chooses to do, we’ll all be here to look after you and the baby.”

William agreed. “He or she will have the best uncles and aunties on offer. And with a ma like you they’re sure to get on just fine. I’m pretty sure you’d have no problem keepin’ them safe even without our help.”

“Things will work out,” Maebh added with a supportive smile. “I promise.”

“Thank you,” Abigail said, visibly better off than before. “It makes it a little easier knowin’ I’ll have good folks like you two around me.”

She didn’t stay for long after that, explaining that it was late and she was already exhausted with the night’s events. They couldn’t blame her, feeling quite drained themselves. Once it was just the two of them, William asked what exactly happened with John and Maebh willingly elaborated on their conversation. He seemed perturbed but also relieved that she opted to come back to camp rather than spending the night in Fulton. Though he offered her some supportive encouragement, Maebh found it difficult to sleep that night, her conversation with John playing on her mind until her body’s exhaustion overtook her head’s concerns.

John returned the following morning as promised. He was already back again Maebh woke up. She spotted him having an intense discussion with Hosea and Dutch in his own tent that went on for quite some time. It was followed by him going to talk to Abigail before their conversation grew louder and eventually ended in a brief argument. He was the one to end it, choosing to stomp away instead of dealing with a grilling from anyone who overheard. Maebh sat by the lake, unable to look away from them as tensions grew high. As he stormed off, he caught her eye and hesitated on the spot. When William appeared by her side, John shook his head and continued about his way.

“That could’ve easily been you,” William stated, though not unkindly. “With child and dealin’ with Daddy Marston and all that now.”

“I know,” she agreed as the other women went to comfort Abigail. “You’re right.”

“How do you feel about it?”

She met her brother’s gaze with a frown. “I don’t know. It’s not nice to see them fightin’ and so afraid of what’s to come, and I do miss my time spent with John. Though if that’s how he’s treatin’ the woman he really cares about, God knows what he would’ve been like had _I_ gotten pregnant. Maybe I dodged a bullet.”

“A greasy bullet.”

She snorted. “Harsh.”

“But _true_.”

“He’s not all bad. I think he’s a good man who’s just scared and confused and a bit childish.”

“Maybe you’re just biased because you were ridin’ him.” When she gave him a look he quickly added. “I’m jokin’, relax. I know he’s a good guy when he wants to be. I just wish he’d get his act together. He certainly seemed to care about you anyway.”

Maybe he did, though she didn’t say that aloud. It was sad to let go of her bond with John, but whatever temporary comfort she offered him was insignificant compared to what he could have if he did indeed get his act together. He didn’t want a family, but she didn’t really have any idea what he actually wanted either.

She really hoped that things would settle and go back to normal for everyone’s sake but somehow she doubted that would happen.


	26. Thieves from the South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Maebh grab a meal and the ladies in camp throw a party for Abigail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howiyas! Hope you's are all well. Another update for you's to (hopefully) enjoy. I'm currently 9 hours into The Last of Us Part 2 because my pre-order arrived a day early - I've never felt this lucky in my life HA. Anyways, not to be a big ol' nerd but it's probably going to consume most of my time over the weekend, so if the next chapter is a day or two late, you's know why ;)  
As always, thanks for reading, commenting, leaving kudos - the whole lot. I can't stress this enough, but it really does bring a smile to my dumb Irish face.
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Babel” — Mumford & Sons, “Northern Wind” — Liza Anne, “The Night We Met” — Lord Huron, “Slán Connery” — The Scratch

** _13th March, 1895, outside Huron, South Dakota_ **

_Things have thankfully settled down at camp. It’s a welcome change after the turbulent time at the beginning of 1895. _

_Most of us seem relatively used to the change in dynamics since Christmas and Abigail’s announcement. The ladies in camp are fiercely protective of her, forming a sort of matriarchal family to support her whenever Marston doesn’t meet the mark — which is unfortunately frequent. I can’t help but think of Bessie during those times, wishing I could witness the encouragement and comfort that she would surely offer Abigail in times of uncertainty. Sometimes, watching her and the baby inside her grow feels all too familiar for me, and vivid memories of Eliza and Isaac consistently find their way into my head. I’ve nothing against the poor girl. She’s found herself in the most awkward and unfair of situations and now her life will be forever tethered to a man who seems to prefer acting as though he’s a boy. John is young but his moping and self pity is starting to grate on me a little. She’s a good woman and he has no idea how lucky he really is. I can only assume that he’s frustrated to have his freedoms reigned in and his responsibilities growing with the soon-to-be arrival of his child. He’s tried — I’ve witnessed it myself — but, good God, is he entirely clueless when it comes to helping Abigail. Some days he tries, sometimes he fails miserably, and sometimes the pair of them end up in shouting matches until Tilly or one of the other women shoo him away. He’s so helplessly baffled by it all and apparently not even I can do much to help. I’ve tried, especially considering I was in quite a similar situation, but he keeps insisting that ‘this is different, Morgan’ without giving me any reason as to why._

_Even still, the whole gang has helped to pick Abigail up in the areas that Marston has failed. We readily fetch things for her in town, spend time with her when she’s too tired to do much, and do our best to calm her when worries of the future consume her. It is very obvious that she had no plans on being a mother — not until Marston — but she grows more fond of her bump with each passing day, explaining that she is eager to meet her little one even if the father is not. When the mere mention of the baby’s arrival seems to make John an anxious mess, Abigail almost relishes in it now, and the sight warms my old, cold heart. William is surprisingly protective of her in her pregnant state, as is his sister. It’s quite refreshing to see a young man who can be as vicious as a rabid and abused dog being so soft and caring towards a soon-to-be mother. Hell, even the O’Driscoll boy offered to fetch her her morning coffee so that she could stay in her comfortable tent._

_Now I find myself away from camp for a day or two with Maebh as company. Albert Johnson sent for us again, needing help accompanying a big delivery to Alpena. We were more than happy to accept if it meant getting away from John and Abigail’s fiery relationship, and if it means I get to spend more time with Maebh then I sure as hell aren’t about to argue._

* * *

“You see them up on that ridge ahead?”

Arthur peered through the scope of his rifle. “Yeah, I seem ’em. I count three.”

Accompanying the delivery wagons to Alpena had gone very well so far. With most of the journey completed without incident, it was typical that problems would arrive as they got closer to their destination. Perched atop their mounts, Arthur and Maebh had ridden ahead ofthe wagons, casually chatting with the drivers while keeping an eye out. Only now as they were oh so near to the end of the job did they spot three suspicious looking characters up ahead.

Maebh called over her shoulder to the wagon driver. “We got three up ahead, Leland! Might want’a get your rifle out.”

“Ain’t this what the boss is payin’ you for?” he replied in jest as he readied himself. He called out to the other driver behind him. “Get your gun out, boy!”

“Four guns is better than two,” Maebh replied as she peered through her binoculars. “How do you want’a play this, Arthur?”

“Let’s see if they make a move towards us first. Keep your gun trained on them just in case.”

The riders on the ridge started to move, coming down the hill towards them. Still a relatively safe difference away, Arthur followed their usual protocol and called out to them. “We got wagons comin’ through here, fellers! Keep your distance!”

Ignoring the warning, they drew closer. As their guns were unholstered and bandanas pulled to cover their features, the man at the front of the trio announced their purpose. “Lower your weapons! This is a robbery!”

After many jobs for Mr. Johnson, Arthur and Maebh had adopted a sure-fire method in dealing with dumb thieves who ignored their first warning — shoot first and ask questions later.

The reign of bullets brought down on the bandits was chaotic and fatal. Arthur and Maebh used the swiftness of their horses to avoid fire, downing each of the riders with the assistance of the farmhands driving the wagons. It didn’t take much for the riderless horses to bolt in the fray, the abandoned bodies left in the dust.

Leland put his rifle away as calmness descended upon them once more and let out a laugh. “You two are certainly efficient.”

“They’d have no problem killin’ us for those goods,” Arthur answered without much concern. “Let’s just get this delivery into town before more of them show up.”

The rest of their journey was thankfully quiet and the transaction of Mr. Johnson’s goods went down without any issues. Maebh and Arthur shared goodbyes with his farmhands as they took the empty wagons back to the Stony Run Ranch.

With their horses hitched outside Alpena’s saloon, Arthur approached his friend as she counted her pay. “That was a good take.”

She hummed in agreement. “That is was. It’s a bit weird earnin’ money in the legal sense.”

He let out a chuckle. “Honest work might not be as fun as robbin’ rich folks, but it certainly pays well sometimes. Anythin’ you fancy buyin’?”

“Well, it’s William’s birthday next month and he’s been eyin’ a few things in Mitchell. I might go in one day and pick somethin’ out for him.”

“Oh yeah? Well maybe I could go with you and I could pick up somethin’ for him too.”

She smiled at him, tucking her money into her satchel. “I’d definitely be up for that.”

“Good, good.” He tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks and cast his eyes over the facade of the saloon, a promise returning to his memory almost instantly. “I realise I still owe you some food. You did ask if we could go out together again.”

She looked at the little building curiously. “I never turn down food or an opportunity to hang out with you. Let’s give it a go.”

He tried to ignore how stupidly giddy her agreement made him feel as they entered the establishment. It was already busy enough for a small place, filled with people eating their dinner and having a beer or two.

As they approached the bar, the bartender offered them a warm welcome. “Greetings, folks! Don’t think I’ve seen you two come through here before.”

“We’re doin’ some work for a ranch up north,” Arthur explained. “But we ain’t passed through the parts before.”

The barman nodded as he wiped down the countertop. “I see. Well, we’re only a little town. The place was only plotted two years ago, ya see, so we’re still finding our footing. What can I do ya for?”

“We’re lookin’ for somethin’ to eat,” Maebh said, already pulling out some coins from her pocket. “And we’re hopin’ you’s have some good food in here.”

“The finest in all of Jerauld County. Our specialty is a lovely bison roast with vegetables on the side. You can’t go wrong with that. Or we offer some nice walleye and different soups.”

“I’ll go with the specialty and a beer. What about you, Arthur?”

“And I’ll have what the lady is havin’ too.” He was reaching into his pocket when she was already setting coins down on the counter for both of them. “Hey, wait a minute now—”

She waved off his concern as the bartender took her money. “I’ll cover this one, alright? And next time we do this, you can get it.”

“You already plannin’ the next time?”

“Obviously. You love spendin’ time with me away from all the camp drama.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her confidence, unwilling to admit that yes, he most certainly _was_ eager to spend time with her again, though it was harder to admit that to himself let alone declare it aloud.

“You best listen to the lady, mister,” the barman said, already placing their beers on the counter. “Grab a table and I’ll bring out the food as soon as it’s ready.”

Doing just that, Arthur found himself sitting across from her with a curious expression.

She stared at him as she took a sip of her beer. He could have sworn that she even looked bit bashful. “Don’t be lookin’ at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“All _incredulously_.”

He smirked and quickly feigned innocence. “I did not such thing, Miss Hennigan.”

“I’m many things, Mr. Morgan. But I’m neither a fool nor a scab.”

“I never implied you was, but you didn’t have to pay for my meal.”

She waved off his concern. “Ah yeah, but I wanted to.”

He eyed her curiously, getting a little distracted as she brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “Suppose I can’t argue with you there, can I?”

“You can argue with me all you want if the food is shite.” She raised her bottle. “Deal?”

He clinked the rim of his bottle off hers. “Deal.”

Thankfully, there were no complaints to be had over their food. It was certainly the nicest bison he had had in some time. Maebh seemed equally satisfied as she polished her plate clean.

Not yet ready for their evening to end, he ordered another round of drinks and asked her a question as he returned from fetching them. “So tell me, you got anymore stories in that head o’yours? I really enjoyed the last one you wrote about Cú Chulainn and how he killed that hound.”

His words seemed to please her, a grin forming on her distracting lips. “With the _sliotar?”_

“Uh, yeah, the _sliotar_,” he repeated, trying to wrap his tongue around the foreign word. “I can never say it right. I’m probably butcherin’ your language.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” she reassured him quickly. “I’ve certainly heard far worse.”

“It helps that I can hear you say all the names and words before I read them. Otherwise I can’t get my head ’round some of those letter combinations.”

“It helps when you grow up speakin’ it, so I won’t judge you all that much.”

“Well ain’t that kind of you?” he said with a laugh. “But if you’ve got anymore in the works, I’d love to read them.”

She considered him for a moment, mulling it over. “I’ve actually been thinkin’ about writin’ the story of the Children of Lir next.”

Arthur leaned forward in his seat, arms folded atop the table. “What’s it about?”

“You sure you don’t want to go in blind?”

He shook his head. “I actually quite like when you give me previews. You’re really good at sellin’ the story.”

He didn’t know why he kept blurting out these comments, especially when she either laughed them off or tried to sell herself short. “What are you tryin’ to do? Give me an ego?”

“Just tryin’ to get you to realise your talent,” he clarified with a shrug. “C’mon. Tell me what it’s about.”

She sat up in her seat a little, leaning closer to him as she started to explain the story’s main plot with a sort of controlled enthusiasm that he loved to see. “It’s about the God of the Sea, Lir, and his four children, his eldest son Aodh, his daughter Fionnula, and twin sons, Fiachra and Conn. His wife, Eva, passes away and she’s obviously terribly missed by her husband and their children. Though the family is devastated by the loss and Lir is mournin’ too, he worries ’bout their children growin’ up without a mother in their life. So he eventually marries Eva’s sister, Aoife, who also happens to wield magical powers.

“At first, things with Aoife are grand, but it starts to become evident that the King loves his children far more than he loves her. She quickly grows jealous and decides to get rid of the children so that she might have all of his love for herself. One day she takes the children to swim in Lough Derravaragh, and while they play together in the water, Aoife stands on the shore and casts a spell on them. In a flash of light, the children disappear and are replaced with four beautiful swans, their feathers as white as snow.”

“_Swans?”_ he repeated, already intrigued. “Seriously?”

Maebh raised a brow at him. “Well yeah. They can’t do much about her stealin’ their da if they’re swans, now can they?”

“I suppose not,” he agreed. “Have you ever seen a swan though? They’re vicious as hell. Please tell me the story ends with them peckin’ her eyes out.”

“I can’t spoil the endin’ for you. You’ll just have to wait and read it.”

He let out a groan. “Awh, c’mon now. You really can’t tell me?”

“I can’t, but your impatience is very amusin’, Mr. Morgan.”

“See? You’ve already got me hooked with just a brief description of the plot. I don’t see why you couldn’t make a thing of this.”

“A thing?”

He was quick to elaborate, leaning back in his seat. “You’re young, ain’t no reason why you couldn’t pursue writin’ even if you’re in a gang. Lots of authors write under pseudonyms. Have you ever thought about publishin’ work?”

The concept seemed to make her a little uneasy, her eyes narrowing uncertainly as she gave him her full attention. “When I was a little kid, yeah. I haven’t really thought about it all that much since. You don’t really consider those things when you’re in the gang. I think the only time I ever contemplated that was before Bessie died.”

“How come?”

“She seemed quite adamant about advisin’ William and I to think of life after the gang. She said that times would change and that we should try pursuin’ our passions.”

“That certainly sounds like ol’ Bessie.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t really done it.”

“There’s no reason why you couldn’t do that while still bein’ in the gang. Same for William if he wants to look into doin’ some actin’ work.”

If her body language was anything to go by, she seemed trepidatious at the thought. “I dunno, maybe we will.”

“I’m sayin’ this as someone who reads your stories, but there ain’t no reason why you wouldn’t get published.”

“Maybe. I think if I were to write a story, I’d rather it be somethin’ that isn’t just another retellin’ of Irish mythology. Writin’ some grand adventure would be fun, but I haven’t a notion of what to write about.”

“It’ll come to you,” he reassured her. “You’ve got a wild enough imagination — ain’t no reason why you couldn’t come up with somethin’. It’ll hit you one day.”

“Here’s hopin’ anyway."

“I think you’re better at things than you think. Even with the work we’ve been runnin’ up here. You did good today. I wouldn’t have anyone else with me on these jobs, other than maybe your little brother. He held himself well too.”

“Alright, but the real question is who would you rather have with you on these jobs: me or William?”

Her mock severity amused him. “You can’t ask me to pick between the two of you. That’s harsh.”

“I’m just lettin’ you know that the correct answer is me.”

He had to admit that she was right about that at least. “You got me there. I will ride with you as long as you’ll have me.”

Maebh seemed to study him carefully, assessing his words before she spoke. “I’d have you for as long as we’ve both got, Arthur. Whether that be ten hours or ten years, I’ll be around.”

Oh Lord, her words really did a number on him. He could feel that nervous lump in his throat, the lightheadedness that came with her admission. He really couldn’t help how fond of her he was. It had been some time since he’d looked at a woman like this, so long that admitting his thoughts aloud was almost frightening. He had stared down the barrels of guns, fled for his life from stubborn lawmen, and faced vicious animals in the wild, but nothing left him feeling more vulnerable than the way she looked at him with those green eyes. “You and me both then.”

“I mean it,” she reiterated, her fingers fidgeting on the bottle. I’ve really enjoyed runnin’ these jobs with you. It’s, eh, nice to see you happier than you were before… y’know.”

It had been nearly a year since he lost his family and it had felt like the longest year of his life. Even his time spent on the streets couldn’t compare to this. He still went up to their graves to sit and think in the silence of the land around him sometimes. But she was right — even in the grand scheme of things and the hardships that he had experienced, he was doing a little better. He was still hardened, still cautious with being willingly exposed and opening himself up to losing those he loved again. But maybe someday he would be okay. He really hoped that Maebh would still be around then. If her words were anything to go by, she wasn’t going to leave him anytime soon, or anytime _at all_. He dared to think that he wanted to be better for her.

He nodded slowly, unable to look her in the eye. “Thank you for… Well, thank you for bein’ around for me, I guess. I’m sure I wasn’t easy to deal with.”

“Loss does that to people. You’ve nothin’ to apologise for and you’d do the same for me. In fact, you _have_ done the same for me. When I said I’d have you for as long as we’re both around, I mean that I’m here for the good days and the bad days. I only want’a try make them easier for you.”

“You do,” he answered before he could think. His admission made him nervous, but his loose tongue spoke for him. He steadied himself before repeating in a calmer tone. “You do.”

“I’m glad.” She smiled softly, an innocent little gesture that he relished. She raised her bottle. “To good beer, good bison, and good company.”

He couldn’t deny her. He was beginning to think that he couldn’t deny how he felt about her either. Raising his drink, he clinked it against hers. “The finest in all of Jerauld County.”

* * *

** _14th March, 1895, outside Fulton, South Dakota_ **

_Arthur and I returned to camp this morning. Being around him is getting a little easier, though I don’t think my feelings are going away — it’s just less difficult keeping them in check while handling myself. Right now, I would consider that as some sort of win. Working for Mr. Johnson with Arthur by my side has been a genuine delight and a nice getaway from some of the more tense days at camp. I’m hardly going to deny myself quality time with him either, and he seems to have come a long way since all the troubles he faced last year. It’s not easy and I understand that, but I can’t help but be proud seeing him out and about and working like his old self. There’s still that coarsened part of himself that I can see behind his eyes, but it isn’t what it once was. All I can hope is that my company is somehow helpful or cathartic for him._

_While I obviously enjoy our time alone together, it’s still nice to be back at camp. Annabelle organised a sort of party for Abigail with the other camp ladies. We’re to take over the scout campfire tonight and share a few drinks away from all of the men. Some of them weren’t entirely pleased to be excluded from the party — especially poor old Uncle — but it’s considered a ‘ladies only’ get together as we discuss her pregnancy and the baby’s eventual arrival. Even John wasn’t invited, though I doubt he’d want to be anywhere near it for fear of being completely overwhelmed. _

_Speaking of John, our friendship (relationship? Who knows) has been quite off since Christmas and my insistence that we shouldn’t continue our more intimate encounters. The awkwardness and discomfort between us feels like our first ‘morning after’ all over again, but it’s mostly coming from him. Our conversations seem forced, when I approach him he can sometimes brush me off, and other times he comes to me and can barely form a sentence. I really do miss him — in more ways than one. The intimacy we shared was a great comfort for me and our friendship was always one of the most important things in my life. I miss being with him in both ways and now it seems that I can have neither. What a load of—_

  
“Uh, hi.”

Maebh looked up from her journal and snapped it shut when she saw John standing there. “Hi.”

She was sitting in her tent alone, enjoying her privacy as she put her thoughts down on to paper. She hadn’t expected him to approach her at all today, but every now and then he seemed to acquire some bravery and force himself to do so.

He shuffled on his feet for a moment, placing his hands on his hips and popping them from side to side as he tried to steady himself. “Mind if I sit for a bit?”

She knew the movement wasn’t meant to insinuate anything, but, _Jesus_, she was a simple woman. He certainly wasn’t hers to have, but she could still look and think of fond memories. She shook her head and scooted aside on her bedroll. “Not at all.”

He sat down next to her with his legs crossed, close but not uncomfortably so. Although having him in close proximity was still considered normal for her. Lord knows they had done _far_ more wanton things in her tent before. 

Her eyes darted down to eye his knee that lightly touched hers. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered in an almost knee-jerk reaction. “I’m fine.” He was silent for a moment but she didn’t press him. Instead, she let him sit as he gathered his thoughts and words. After a moment, he managed to say more. “I guess we just… ain’t spoken in a while.”

She agreed with a slow nod. “Yeah, we haven’t really.”

He couldn’t look at her for long, but his voice was thick. “I miss it, is all.”

“I know. I miss it too.”

_That_ got him to look her in the eye and all she could offer was a sad smile. “I mean that in every way, Maebh. You know? I don’t just mean sleepin’ with you. I miss the talkin’ too. Just bein’ with you.”

She could admit that she did feel sorry for him in some regard. As jarring as this was for Abigail, it was equally as such for John. He hadn’t been handling it well but she still had faith in him that he would eventually man up and _at least_ be a good father. Still, it couldn’t be easy for either of them, and not being able to talk to your best friend probably made it all the worse.

“I’m still here if you want’a talk,” she reassured him. “Or just hang out. Really, I mean that. We’re still friends.”

“It ain’t really the same though. The way we was when we were alone, it felt _different_.”

“What do ye mean _‘different’?”_

“It’s just… Well, I— I don’t quite know how to explain. It seemed closer, maybe?”

She gave him time, trying her best to be understanding and resisting the urge to tell him to quit focusing his attention on whatever they were doing when Abigail was within reach. “Sleepin’ with someone can make you feel closer to them, so that’s not exactly a crazy thing to say. But we can still be really close without doin’ that.”

Though she was trying to be encouraging, he didn’t seem to receive much comfort from her words. He spoke slowly, thoughtfully, and she felt awful. “It all feels so different. I’m worried that maybe you and me ain’t as close as we used to be, like things have changed because of what happened with Abigail and the baby. It feels unfair, _real unfair_. How I feel confuses me to no end and then I worry that not only have I lost what we had, but I’m losin’ you altogether. I’m tryin’ to say what I think I feel, but I can’t find the goddamn words, so then I get frustrated and fight with Abigail until she says I’m selfish. I know I’m not handlin’ it well but I don’t know how to do it right.”

“It’s alright to be uncertain about all of this, but you still have to try make an effort with her and the baby. Can I ask why it is you’re so unsure about pursuin’ Abigail now? What changed?”

“I do care about her,” he insisted. “But I ain’t… I feel like I…” He paused and then let out a frustrated huff. “I can’t even say it.”

“Hey.” Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand on top of his. The contact mad him flinch and she was quick to retract the gesture. “Sorry, force of habit—”

“It’s alright,” he quickly replied and reached to grasp her hand tightly. “I don’t mind.”

She looked at him with a heavy sigh. “Y’know you can tell me whatever’s botherin’ you.”

“I don’t know if I can. Us — whatever _we_ were — is already so different. I don’t want to risk ruinin’ it or losin’ you—”

She squeezed his hand. “You won’t lose me, John. Just ’cause we’re not _together_ anymore doesn’t mean that we’re not friends. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

The way he looked at her was so doubtful it made her heart ache. “You promise?”

“Ah, John…” Without thinking, she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a warm hug. She hated seeing him so clueless with how to handle this unexpected pregnancy, but she also hated seeing him so lost and uncertain. If he needed her support to get his head straight then she wasn’t going to deny him that. The physical contact shocked him as his whole body tensed in her arms. She was about to pull away when he wrapped his arms around her waist and heaved her even closer to him. With her chest pressed flush against his and her cheek resting on his shoulder, it was the closest they had been in months. He melted into her, needy and touch-starved.

“I promise,” she murmured, holding him tight. “At the end of the day, you’re my friend.”

His voice was rougher than usual, breath so close to her ear that it brought back memories from their many physical encounters. “Uh, yeah. Friends.”

When she pulled away from his warmth he averted his gaze, looking down at the chapped skin of his hands. At that moment, Karen announced herself with approaching footsteps. She stuck her head inside the tent and looked at Maebh. “Are you comin’ over here or what? We got a fresh beer waitin’ for you.”

Maebh chuckled at the sight of her. “Yeah, I’ll be over to you’s now.”

“Don’t keep us waitin’!” she added before strolling back to the crowded scout campfire.

“What are y’all doin’?” he asked tentatively.

“Annabelle organised a sorta party for Abigail. Celebratin’ the pregnancy and all that.”

He seemed miffed by the notion. “Oh, right.”

“It’s a girls only thing, if you’re wonderin’ why you weren’t invited. None of the lads were.”

“I doubt I’d be invited anyway if it wasn’t.”

“_I’d_ invite you.”

He blushed and shook his head. “Shut it. What are you, soft?”

She laughed at his playful tone then hesitated and met his eyes. “You know I love you, right? You really are one of my favourite people ’round here and I’ll always be here if you want’a talk ’bout how you’re feelin’.”

While she was hoping her words might help his skepticism, he said nothing in response, eyes flitting back down to his hands instead. Eventually he got to his feet. “I’ll leave you to your party.”

With a small nod, he walked away. Her eyes trailed after him while she hoped that her comfort had helped him in some way. With little else to do, she went to join the rest of the women by the fire

“There you are!” Annabelle called as she approached. “Come, have a seat and grab a drink!”

“Where’s Grimshaw?”

“She’s attendin’ to some work with Pearson but she’ll be comin’ over soon.”

“Where were you?” Tilly asked as she passed her a beer. 

Karen snickered as she cracked open another drink. “Chattin’ with Little Johnny Marston.”

“Oh, Lord. Have you managed to talk some sense into that boy yet?”

“I’m tryin’,” Maebh insisted. “Look, he’s a bit lost and thrown in the deep end just like Abby is, but he’s not the literal worst.”

Tilly was quick to clarify her words. “Oh, I ain’t sayin’ he is, I just hear he has a tendency to listen to you.”

“She’s known him longer than any of us women,” Annabelle clarified. “So he most certainly does.”

Abigail, sitting across from her, asked quietly. “How is he?”

Maebh shrugged. “Okay for the most part, I think. He just seems confused about how to handle it all which is fair in one sense, though I’m not justifyin’ his moments where he’s handled all of this pretty badly and been rude to you.”

“I know you ain’t,” Abigail said kindly, hands resting on her swollen tummy. “Don’t worry.”

“Are we gonna talk about John or are we gonna have some fun?” Karen asked to a rally of cheers from the other women. “Well then alright! No more Marston-talk. Hypothetical question here, ladies, if you were to have a baby with someone in camp, who would it be?”

Maebh almost spat out her beer as Mary-Beth looked at her in shock. “_Jaysus Christ—_”

“It’s a baby-related question!”

While the ladies tried to control their laughter, Annabelle was the first to speak up. “An easy choice for me, though I’m not lookin’ to have kids — Dutch.”

Karen held her hands up. “As expected. What about you, Mary-Beth?”

The younger girl seemed unsure. “Uh well there ain’t exactly many boys my age ’round here…”

“There ain’t,” Tilly agreed. “But we’ve still got William and I’d pick him.”

While Maebh buried her head in her hands, Mary-Beth appeared more enthusiastic now. “Oh, you’re right! I’d pick him too then.”

“Me _three_,” Karen concurred with a slug of her drink. “What a daddy he’d be.”

“For the love of God,” Maebh began, trying not to laugh. “Do _not_ let this conversation leave this campfire. He’ll be struttin’ ’round camp for weeks if he hears this.”

Tilly happily played along. “It ain’t my fault he’s handsome. If you’re gonna judge us, who would _you_ pick then?”

Sitting awkwardly in her seat, Maebh tried to casually sip on her drink. “I dunno—”

“If only that stableboy had joined the gang,” Abigail teased her, much to her chagrin. “Then you’d be all over him.”

“Oh God—”

“_Stableboy?”_ Tilly repeated with intrigue. “Sounds interestin’.”

Mary-Beth swooned at the thought. “It sounds romantic.”

Maebh spoke with a little more certainty. “Not really. The smell of horse shite is still fairly distractin’ durin’ sex.”

Karen was unamused. “Well then it isn’t very _good_ sex.”

“Stableboys aside,” Annabelle began. “If you were to pick someone in camp, who would it be?”

While her thoughts immediately drifted to some very wholesome but also jarringly obscene thoughts about Arthur, she shrugged. “Haven’t a notion.”

Karen was the first to call her out for her hesitance. “Oh, that’s horseshit.”

“Horseshit?”

“_Horseshit!”_

“Honey,” Annabelle began with a smile. “Some of those men may be slow, but we’re notas blind as them. I know you said that you wouldn’t pursue him before, but I think you and Arthur would make a nice pairing.”

While Maebh tried to hide her embarrassment, Tilly seemed enthused by the idea. “She’s not wrong, Maebh. You too are really good friends.”

“We’re actually just mates,” she replied and casually waved them off. “And we’re both happy bein’ _just_ mates. But more importantly, how’re you and the baby Abby? You’re both why we’re here celebratin’ in the first place.”

Already knowing how Maebh had no desire to talk about Arthur right now, Abigail was happy to talk about her wellbeing and unborn child instead. “We’re doin’ okay. I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with bein’ sick every mornin’ anymore.”

“Does it feel odd that he or she is movin’ ’round in there?”

“It was at first, but now there’s somethin’ real comfortin’ about it. It feels nice.”

Though she still had a few months left before the baby was due to arrive, Abigail already seemed like a doting mother despite her uncertainty. They couldn’t help but smile at her excitement as Mary-Beth asked. “Have you got any names in mind yet?”

Ever prepared, she did. “I was thinkin’ Elizabeth for a girl or Jack for a boy.”

“Lovely names,” Annabelle noted, echoing the thoughts among the group. “And they’re sure to be gorgeous if they’re anythin’ like their momma. A toast then!” She raised her drink as the others followed suit. “To Abigail and lil Jackie or Lizzy Roberts.”

“Marston,” Abigail replied with a small smile. “Lil Jackie or Lizzy Marston.”

There were unanimous cheers and clinking drinks together, celebrating the long-awaited arrival of the smallest member of the Van der Linde Gang.

At that moment, Susan arrived to join them, surprisingly okay with their revelry and taking a break for work. When quizzed about her willingness to let them relax, her reply was simple. “Babies are rare ’round here. In all my years in this gang, this is the first baby we’ll be seein’. You girls know we have to work hard to keep this place runnin’ but one night off to celebrate a special occasion won’t kill the rest of them, hopefully. It ain’t gonna be easy to raise a little one in a place like this, but you know that we’ll all look out for both’a you, Miss Roberts. As Dutch says, we’re a family.”

Miss Grimshaw’s statement was met with more cheers within the small group and the atmosphere remained positive for the rest of the evening, a welcome change amidst the tentative uncertainty that seemed to plague them at times. It was a night of celebration and nothing less was allowed.

* * *

  
“Miss Maebh, are you busy?”

Dutch had approached Maebh with a wide smile on his face while she chopped vegetables for the day’s dinner. It was a week after their party for Abigail and things at camp were generally quiet, so the thought of work intrigued her.

“Not really,” she said. “I’m just choppin’ these for Pearson.”

He appraised the carrots thoughtfully. “So you are. But carrots ain’t very excitin’. How would you like some work?”

“I’d love some. What’ve you got?”

“We’ve been runnin’ low on chickens since Bill fell asleep durin’ guard duty and those coyotes got ’em. Heard of a feller who owns a small ranch with some coops not far from here and figured we could borrow some of his.”

“Stealin’ chickens?” she repeated curiously.

“O’course. Apparently he sells the eggs at ridiculous prices so I don’t feel too bad about it. It ain’t nothin’ too taskin’, but I wanted to steal some while he takes his other animals out to pasture. I could use an extra set of hands and I think it’s been quite some time since we rode together, just you and I.”

“It’s certainly been a while and I’m never one to turn down work. Count me in.”

Dutch smiled, patting her shoulder with pride. “You never disappoint me, my dear. You go mount up. Mr. Pearson! I’ll be stealin’ your sous-chef for the afternoon, if you don’t mind. Have young Tilly help you with all this choppin’.”

After quickly informing William as to where she was off to, Maebh waited atop Dullahan while Dutch fetched The Count. The two of them rode out of camp together, heading south to the aforementioned ranch. It wasn’t all that far from Clarksville — the town where she and John had first met Mary-Beth — so their trip wasn’t overly long. Their casual chatting along the way was a good way to pass the short time. As they approached the ranch, they hitched their horses a safe distance away and Dutch handed her a cloth sack to carry over her shoulder.

“Now,” he began and fetched a bag for himself. “He’ll have taken his cattle out to pasture not too long ago. It’s still light out, but he hasn’t got anyone lookin’ after the rest of the farm while he’s away with the herd.”

“Really? Not even dogs or somethin’?”

“He’s not just stubborn when it comes to sellin’ his produce. He’s practically _askin’_ to be robbed.”

“Let’s relieve him of some of those chickens then.”

“Bandanas on and follow my lead. The coops are just behind the house.”

She and Dutch moved through the undergrowth until they emerged into the wide fields surrounding the ranch house. Just as he assured her, the area was void of workers, though the small size of the pens implied that it didn’t take a large operation to keep things running. They kept their heads low as they got to the house, skimming around the end of the building until they spotted the coops. There were a large number of chickens in the two pens, pecking at their feed and clucking away without a care in the world.

“Alright, Miss Hennigan,” Dutch began, already making his way into one of the pens. “I’ll take this one and you take the one on the left.”

“Sure thing, boss. How many do we need?”

“I’d say four each should do the trick. We don’t wanna stuff too many of ’em into these sacks.”

Making her way into the pen, the chickens began to scatter nervously, but they couldn’t exactly go anywhere else within the enclosure. Trying to be as careful as she could, Maebh managed to grab one and bag it as it clucked in protest. It was an awkward task and she could see why Dutch asked for her assistance — she was constantly avoiding being pecked and trying not to hurt the chickens by accident. The second chicken would have taken a lump out of her hand had she not been wearing gloves. As she grabbed a third one, she accidentally pushed the pen gate open with her heel and another chicken managed to rush out of the coop, feathers flying everywhere in its escape.

“Ah Jaysus,” she grumbled before tossing the sack over her shoulder. “I’ll grab her Dutch and then I’ll be done.”

“I’ll be right behind ya.”

She hurried after chicken as it rounded the house. “C’mere to me, ye little—”

She stopped dead in her tracks as she nearly bumped headfirst into a figure in front of her. Her mouth fell open beneath her bandana. 

There stood a man who couldn’t have been much older than her. His clothes were tattered, his hair unkept and unclean, and his skin marred with cuts and dirt. He seemed to have come a long way judging by his current state. His sunken cheeks made him look practically starving. The chicken was in his skinny arms, still clucking away while they stared at each other. She assessed him quickly, holding up her free hand as he seemed to be doing the same with her.

“Uh, Dutch?”

The older man came running at her call and stopped as he saw the newcomer.The three of them stood there awkwardly in a confused face off while Maebh waited for him to give her some sort of signal. Should she reach for her pistol? The man didn’t even look like he had the energy to lift a gun.

Beside her, the sound of Dutch’s laughter broke the silence. She looked at him in surprise — it felt like she was reliving the first time she met Bill Williamson all over again. Although what the stranger did next was a vast difference from what happened before.

He started to laugh too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all already know how this works - bonus points for those who can correctly guess the stranger's identity!


	27. Fatherhood, for Degenerates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The latest newcomer is brought back to camp and Abigail goes into labour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back in action! Here's another chapter that I hope you's enjoy. It's surprisingly wholesome... though I suppose that only means that angst is imminent ha Thank you as always for reading and sticking around. I'm aware this is quite a long fic so I greatly appreciate the loyalty, as Dutch might say ;) I'll just say dedication instead. Hope you's enjoy!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Table Top” — Daniel Lanois, “Samurai Cop (Oh Joy Begin)” — Dave Matthews Band, “War of the Buttons” — The Scratch, “Whiskey Before Breakfast” — Huckleberry Flint

Maebh’s gaze flipped between the two men as they laughed. Why was it that whenever they came across strangers, the interaction never seemed to go like she thought it would? 

She was frowning beneath her bandana, not even remotely contemplating that they might meet someone on this job, let alone another apparent chicken thief. While she was still skeptical of this person, Dutch seemed relaxed and even amused by the encounter.

“We didn’t expect to come across someone with the same idea as us out here,” he said, sack slung over his shoulder. “You must be another man of opportunity.”

“I guess you could say that,” the younger man replied, light traces in his accent hinting at how far he had truly travelled. “I’m just starving.”

“Well there’s plenty to go around. You look like you’ve come a long way, son.”

“Pretty far, yeah. Nuevo Paraíso.”

“Mexico?” Maebh asked curiously.

The stranger nodded in response and she looked to Dutch for guidance. He still seemed exceptionally relaxed despite the unanticipated exchange. Though she had to admit that this feeble, scrawny-looking man didn’t seem overly threatening.

Dutch was intrigued. “You came all that way on your own? Sounds to me like you must have done somethin’ bad to leave your home and end up miles away lookin’ like this.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” the stranger replied. “And I left to protect my family.”

Maebh threw Dutch a look while he replied. “A noble cause as any.” He extended his hand out. “Dutch Van der Linde. This here is my friend, Maebh.”

He shook Dutch’s hand while offering Maebh polite nod. “Javier Escuella.”

She eased up a little as introductions were made and instead listened as Dutch began to work is magic. “Have you got anywhere to go, Mr. Escuella? You don’t look like you’re doin’ so good on your own.”

Javier seemed a little ashamed as he admitted his situation. “Not really. I’m honestly surprised I didn’t die crossing the desert.”

“What would you say if I was to offer you some clean clothes and a hot meal?”

“I would ask what you wanted from me, Mr. Van der Linde.”

Dutch laughed again. “Well, I run a gang, you see; a family. We help those who need it, and you sorely look like you do. We can offer you clothes, food, and shelter. All we ask in return is that people earn their keep. Hell, it ain’t been that long since I found Miss Maebh and her brother in a similar spot to you, ain’t that right, Maebh?”

“Um hmm. We haven’t looked back since.”

“Look,” Dutch spoke calmly but looked at the man with a meaningful glint in his eye. “We only wanna help. How ’bout you come back with us and we can talk more over a steamin’ hot bowl of stew? See what you think and then make a decision. What are we gonna do, rob ya?”

The two of them started laughing again and she had to resist the urge to join in. “We really shouldn’t stick around here for too long, Dutch…”

“Of course,” he agreed and then opened up the sack in front of Javier. “You comin’ with us?”

With a meaningful look at both of them, Javier leaned forward and gently placed the chicken into the sack with the others. “It’s not like I have anything to lose.”

“You ain’t wrong there. You got a horse?”

He apparently did not. Maebh had no idea how this guy had survived this long. Considering she had the bigger horse, she allowed him to hop on the back of Dullahan as they made the return journey home. Sure, the rest of the gang had expected them to return with two sacks full of chickens, but the feeble straggler was an unforeseen addition.

Susan was the first to notice. “Mr. Van der Linde, ain’t you brought _enough_ rough’n ready kids back already?”

“You know me, Miss Grimshaw,” he said. “I just can’t help myself if I see someone who needs assistance. Miss Maebh, why don’t you and Javier put those chickens in the coop while I talk with Susan and Hosea. Then maybe help him get some food.”

“Come on then,” Maebh said to a confused Javier. She handed him one of the sacks and then nodded to the little coop near where the horses grazed. “We’ve to bring them over here.”

He seemed a little apprehensive but followed her nonetheless. “Are we not eating them?”

“Nah, these one’s will be used for eggs. We usually buy meat in town or hunt it ourselves. We don’t each these little fellas.”

“Oh, right.”

He followed her lead and gently turned the sack over to usher the chickens into their new home. With the animals now roaming about next to the coop, Maebh folded up the sacks and tossed them down beside Pearson’s wagon. “C’mon. You’re hungry, right? Let’s grab some stew.”

Javier smiled, hurrying after her far quicker now as she lead him to the pout. “Ah, _please_.”

“You came here on a good day,” she elaborated, using the ladle to fill bowls for both of them. “Me and Tilly helped the camp cook make this, so it should actually taste nice.”

“Are you saying that your camp cook can’t cook?”

She gave him a signal to lower his voice as she led them to one of the tables. As they took a seat, she elaborated a little. “Let’s just say that he’s mad fond of salt but that we try to help out by sneakin’ herbs into the food. It’s the best we can do.”

“I don’t care how much salt is in this, I’ll still take it.”

Maebh watched with amusement as he lapped the food up, uncaring of whether it was mediocre or not. When he was finished, she still had half her bowl to go. “You feelin’ better now?”

“Definitely.” He wiped a hand across his mouth. “Sorry. It’s been a while since I had a hot meal.”

“I don’t doubt it. Dutch means it when he says there’s a spot here for you if you need it and plenty more bowls of bland stew to be had. How long have you been on your own?”

“A while,” he answered, skimming his finger along the rim of the bowl. “It feels like a long time now.”

“What did you do back in Mexico that meant you had’ta leave? Must’ve been serious enough.”

“I may have killed a very, very powerful man, all over a woman that I loved.”

“_Seriously?”_ she asked, openly intrigued. “That’s very… poetic.”

He smiled. “Perhaps, and maybe also a bit stupid. I was a notorious revolutionary in my home country and the man I killed used to be in the military. I feared that they might use my family against me, so I fled to America. I didn’t know a word of English and didn’t have a plan. You two are the first people I met who seemed to care.”

She couldn’t help but be intrigued by Javier. Perhaps it was because of their similar revolutionary backgrounds, though she never had the chance to fight for her freedom as her parents had done. She was far too young at the time, but this man had done it all. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that. My family were revolutionaries too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, back home in Ireland. My ma and da fought against British rule. Me and my brother would’ve done it too, but we were too young.”

“How did you end up in this gang then?”

“Our parents died and Dutch found us as orphans, kinda similar to you. We had nowhere else t’go and he took us in when we were still quite young. Only kids, really.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty and my brother is nineteen, though it’s his birthday in a few weeks. I’d say you’re probably not far off us, are you?”

“I’m twenty two, so I’d say you’re right.”

“Thought so.” She quickly finished her meal and pushed the bowl aside. “I suppose I can relate a little bit to how you’re feelin’. Myself and my brother, William, are always around if you have questions. Most of the folks in camp are pretty approachable as well. Any important questions though, bring them to Dutch or Hosea.”

“Thank you,” he said, then quickly added. “Not just for the advice, but for taking me in. I’m not entirely sure how much longer I could have lasted on my own.”

Maebh waved off his words. “It’s what Dutch does and I wouldn’t expect any less of him. Don’t worry about it.”

Before much else could be said, Miss Grimshaw made herself known. She set some towels, clothes, and a bar of soap on the table with surprising thud. “Mr. Escuella, I believe these are for you. You can wash yourself downstream, beyond those trees along there. I’ll give you a pass this time for obvious reasons, but in future, I don’t tolerate uncleanliness around here. My camp, my rules.”

“Of course,” Javier replied, looking at the items with delight. “You won’t have to worry about that with me, miss.”

“I certainly hope not, young man. I’ll get you a tent all set up — just come to me when you’re finished washin’.”

Maebh watched her leave, marching off to attend to her duties without a care in the world. “Just to warn ya; she’ll _definitely_ live up to that threat. I’ve seen her dunk people’s heads right into basins without hesitance. Sometimes they even get a slap or two if they argue.”

With a chuckle, Javier stood up and gathered his bowl and spoon. “Oh, don’t worry. Looking like this isn’t by choice. I clean up good.”

“I don’t doubt it. Leave them, I’ll throw the bowls in the wash basin — you just worry ’bout gettin’ clean before Miss Grimshaw sees.”

“Are you sure?”

She gave him a look. “D’ye want’a get your head dunked?”

“Not particularly. Thanks, Maebh.”

With a small inclination of his head, Javier headed off towards the lake. Without much fuss, she gathered up their tableware and cleaned them as promised. Though she was at first hesitant, she was glad she could get a chance to talk to Javier privately to get a better read on him. He seemed like a good person, relatively calm but certainly struggling to find his way. She hadn’t expected his situation to be even a little bit similar to hers, but she was admittedly eager to talk to someone who might empathise and understand. Though she wasn’t about to spill any detrimental details just yet — those were still reserved to Hosea, Bessie, and Arthur alone.

When Mr. Escuella returned bathed and wearing clean clothes, introductions were made. As was customary, Dutch made a short speech to introduce him to everyone before drinks was fetched. The newcomer seemed to gel with the others, portraying a calm demeanour with a hint of charisma hidden beneath his tentative guise. She had a feeling that he would do just fine in the Van der Linde Gang.

* * *

** _23rd May, 1895, outside Fulton, South Dakota_ **

_We’ve only just recently celebrated Maebh’s 21st birthday, and it appears we’ll be celebrating the arrival of the gang’s youngest member any day now. _

_Abigail is fairly close to her due date and seems very much fed up with being pregnant, though I don’t think any of us can blame her all that much. She’s both eager to meet her baby and eager to say goodbye to all the ailments that come with pregnancy. Annabelle and Miss Grimshaw are always on hand and ready for whenever the time is right and there is a particular anticipation around camp that I’ve never experienced before. It’s almost like fearful but curious excitement. Marston is an absolute mess of nerves but what’s new. He tends to avoid everyone entirely, instead choosing to stand alone and power through as many cigarettes as he can, or go out on jobs as frequently as possible — much to Abigail’s chagrin. On one hand, I understand his nervous disposition, but on the other, I feel exceedingly jealous and frustrated by his denial. _

_I suppose time will tell how he reacts once his son or daughter is brought into the world._

_Other than that, Dutch and Hosea have been talking more and more about moving on once Abigail has her baby. In the last few months, I’ve seen more of Hosea being sober than drunk which is a very welcome change. With his old ways of thinking coming back to him, he’s explained that it’s probably time for us to move on to another spot so that we don’t bring too much attention to ourselves. I can’t help but agree, even if I do like this spot. I guess this means they’ll have to send out another letter to notify Colm O’Driscoll of the move. I’ve heard them talking about a place out near Reno, Nevada. It’s a long journey, but it’s probably best that we move a little ways out West after spending so much time nearer to the East. It’ll be a welcome change for us all and it might be nice to see what places we pass through in those three weeks of travelling. One thing I will surely miss is the time I could spend alone with Maebh working for Mr. Johnson. Perhaps we could find similar work in Nevada when we arrive? A fool can dream…_

_Javier has been doing quite well since he joined. After two months of getting to know him, he seems like a decent kid. He’s certainly been through a lot since he left his home, but he’s settled in quite well. Most of the fellers are very accepting, but Williamson has to go and make an idiot of himself whenever he’s drunk, as per usual. He’s learned on more than one occasion that the term ‘greaser’ isn't one that Javier will allow. It usually ends with a knife being pushed into Bill’s throat. The kid certainly holds his own and has had no problem out on jobs. With new clothes and a happier attitude, he’s a far cry from the man I met back in March. I can’t help but think that our family is growing stronger by the day. I’m sure it’s foolish of me to say, but there are some days when I sit with these people and feel almost unstoppable. After all I’ve done, after all I’ve experienced, I feel lucky to have them in my life. _

* * *

It was during the middle of the night when Arthur was awoken by a lot of hustle and bustle around camp.

He groaned and rolled over in his cot before registering that someone was gently shaking his shoulder.

“Arthur?”

His eyes snapped open to find Maebh standing over him. He immediately rolled over and asked. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

She shook her head. “We think the baby is on its way. Miss Grimshaw and Annabelle have been helpin’ Abigail all night and the doctor arrived from Mitchell not long ago with two midwives. Dutch asked me to wake you.”

“_Oh_,” he replied before sitting up and pulling his boots on. “What does he need me for?”

“I think he wants you to make sure that John doesn’t do a runner.”

“_Of course_. Where is he now?”

Maebh pointed over to John’s tent where he stood outside, pacing and smoking like his life depended on it. “They moved Abigail inside for some more privacy.”

“Right. You care to join me? He could probably do with you bein’ there too.”

The suggestion made her smile. “That’s probably a good shout. I was hopin’ to stay with Abby but the doctor said they need as much room as possible to help her give birth.”

“Well you grab that brother o’yours and come sit with me and Marston. Just tell him to hold off on teasin’ him.”

She gave him a salute and a ‘yes, sir’ before running off to fetch William. He admittedly had to force himself to not stare after her like a fool, but it took a surprising amount of effort. He had to focus on the task at hand tonight.

He strutted over to a nervous John and sat down at a nearby table. “So, you excited to be a father, Marston?”

If looks could kill… John offered him a vicious scowl. “Don’t you start—”

“I’m only messin’ with ya. C’mon, have a seat and try to relax.”

“I ain’t gonna relax.”

“Don’t be like that. Maebh will be comin’ to sit with us, y’know. So sit down.”

That seemed to trigger something in him, his tensed shoulders easing ever so slightly. With a huff he dragged himself to the chair and sat down, crouched over with his elbows resting on his knees. Arthur studied him for a moment, trying his best to say something that wouldn’t grate on his nerves. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Not _good_,” John snapped. “If that’s what you’re wonderin’.”

“She’s in good hands. Ain’t nothin’ to be worried about.”

“That’s not… Look, I don’t want anythin’ to happen to Abigail _obviously_.”

Arthur glanced at the closed off tent. “How’s she doin’?”

“Fine, I think. Annabelle said so anyway. I wouldn’t know anythin’ ’bout this.”

“I don’t know much either, but I do have some experience if you ever wanna talk.”

“I already told you,” John said brusquely. “I don’t have no interest in bein’ a father. I don’t wish ill on the kid, but—”

Arthur tried to control his emotions but cut his friend off before more could be said. “Unfortunately whether you’ve an _interest_ or not doesn’t matter. That kid will be here soon regardless.”

Before there was a chance for rebuttal, Maebh reappeared with her brother by her side.

“Any news?” William asked, taking a seat next to Arthur while Maebh sat beside John.

“Nothin’ yet. They think the baby will be here soon though.”

“She’s been in labour since early evenin’,” John clarified. “There probably ain’t much longer to go.”

“How’re you doin’?” Maebh asked him with concern, rubbing a pacifying hand softly on his back.

The gesture seemed to calm him a little. “’Bout the same.”

“Don’t be worryin’. She’s got plenty of help with the midwives and Dutch even has the doctor just in case they need him. She’ll be okay.”

Maebh’s soothing words seem to do him good and Arthur had to admit he held some sympathy for the guy. Childbirth was dangerous and agonising for women. With no medicine available to ease their woes, they could only rely on the experience of their midwives and the smoothness of their labour. Complications could not only take the baby’s life, but Abigail too.

“She’s a strong woman,” Arthur agreed with confidence. “She’ll do fine, though I can’t say that I’m jealous of what y’all have to go through.”

Maebh smiled at him, hands still moving in a rhythmic circle. “I doubt we’re exactly eager ’bout it either.”

“They say that the pain is worth it afterwards though, right?” William asked. “Considerin’ you get a baby at the end of it.”

Arthur spoke under his breath. “I think that’s one of the very things that Marston is dreadin’.”

John shook his head and let out a gruff response. “Knock it off, Morgan.”

Biting his tongue, he resisted the urge to sat anything else that might rouse irritation from the younger man. He admittedly hadn’t been expecting such a volatile reaction, but John had rejected his help too many times for him to care all _that_ much.

Maebh was quick to go into damage control, even as John looked like he was ready to bolt. “Hey, you’re alright, relax.” She offered him her free hand and a comforting smile. “I get that you’re nervous, but we’re here to help you stay calm, alright? They won’t say anythin’ else.”

Though hesitant, John appeared to melt with her words, placing his hand in hers and accepting the offered comfort. Arthur eyed them, that little ounce of jealousy flaring up again. He almost wished he was in Marston’s place so that he might hear her honeyed words.

“What are the bets on whether it’ll be a boy or girl?” William asked, trying to distract everyone from the noises of labour coming from the tent. “Any inklin’s?”

“I’d say a boy,” Arthur replied after a moment’s contemplation where his thoughts wandered to his own son. “Either is great no matter what, but my guess is a boy.”

“I’d say a boy too,” William agreed with a thoughtful expression. “Though I already know that Maebh thinks it’ll be a girl.”

His sister rolled her eyes. “I’m not as pressed ’bout the matter as you. I’m almost annoyed that Hosea encouraged us to bet money on it.”

“You’re just annoyed ’cause you’ll be payin’ us when you lose the bet.”

“What are you, psychic? We still have a bit more time before we find out, y’know.”

William shrugged, leaning back in his seat with a smirk. “I’m just confident.”

“When are you _not?”_

Arthur grinned. “She’s got a point.”

John said nothing, not even attempting to partake in the distracting discussion. He thought his life was over either way. He simply sat there and held Maebh’s hand tightly in his own, knee bouncing relentlessly.

As there was a brief lull in conversation, Javier suddenly appeared with Pádraig in tow. They carried several drinks in their arms and began passing them around the group.

“We figured you could use a drink, brother,” Javier said, holding out a whiskey to Marston. “With all the excitement going on.”

John thanked him as he accepted the bottle, immediately bringing it to his lips. The two men had gotten on like a house on fire since he joined back in March. Arthur put it down to being the same age and similar thought processes.

“I dunno if I’d call it excitement,” John grumbled and took another gulp. “More like a goddamn mess.”

“Maybe go slow with the whiskey, yeah?” Maebh suggested, holding her own bottle. “You _do_ have to be able to hold the baby once it’s here. Just take your time.”

He nodded slowly, appeasing her with his reply. “Right, right. Of course.”

Arthur turned to Pádraig in an effort to change the discussion a little. “You got any kids, O’Driscoll?”

The brunette blinked in surprise. “Eh, no. Not that I know of.”

“No little kids runnin’ ’round back in… whatever part of Ireland you’re from?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve no kids runnin’ ’round in Londonderry—”

“Derry,” William said suddenly, correcting him with a severe expression. “It’s _Derry_.”

Pádraig looked black at him with a frown. “Londonderry—”

“_Derry_.”

“… _Londonderry—_”

William and Maebh spoke in unison. “_Derry!”_

“Uh,” Javier began, turning to Arthur. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t get them started,” he hushed him before turning to the rowdy Fenians. “How about we don’t have an Irish civil war while Miss Roberts is in labour? You lot can wait until later to argue about the name of that goddamn county.”

William shook his head. “I never thought I’d see you defendin’ a proddy, Arthur.”

“Stop callin’ me that!” Pádraig insisted.

Javier couldn’t help himself. “What’s a _proddy?”_

Arthur could only sit back in his seat and groan. “Jesus Christ…”

Their group sat there for a long time, keeping John company as he resisted the urge to run right out of camp as the hours drew on. They talked to try drown out the noises of labour coming from the tent and to also keep his anxiety levels down. The sound of a crying baby cut off their conversation almost immediately. When the doctor and his midwives finally emerged from the tent, everyone was on their feet. Susan came out seconds later with wide smile on her face and joyfully declared. “You got yourself a son, Mr. Marston.”

Arthur couldn’t help but feel his heart leap ever so slightly. A boy, a _son! _He had never been so happy for Marston, while also feeling so genuinely envious of this gift.

John could only stand in shock as his friends gave him congratulatory pats on his shoulders. Arthur walked over to give him a firm one and the friendliest smile he could manage. Maebh was encouraging too, so visibly delighted for him while he was left speechless.

“There were no complications,” the doctor clarified, speaking directly to John as he stood in awkward disbelief. “The midwives didn’t even need my assistance and both baby and mother are doing just fine. She’ll need to rest for the week or so. And by that, I mean staying in her bed and getting peace and quiet, you understand? That way we can avoid any further complications, though I think they’ll be fine. The midwives did an excellent job, as did your friends.”

John looked between them, eyes wide and stammering. “So… so they’re, uh, they’re both fine?”

“Yes,” one of the midwives replied. “Perfectly fine. Your boy is a little on the small side but he’ll be alright. Abigail did great.”

“I… Thank you for lookin’ after them.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Marston. About our payment…”

“You can speak to me about that,” Susan replied, already ushering them away. “And we’ll let him see his son.”

Even as their guests offered him congratulations and left to collect their payment, John stood dead still, staring into the darkness of the tent. Arthur resisted the urge to shove him inside, but it seemed that gentle prodding from Maebh was enough to force him a few steps forward.

She pushed him forward, releasing his hand as the others waited and peered in through the tent’s entrance. Abigail lay on the cot, wrapped in sheets and visibly exhausted while Annabelle sat on a chair with a bunch of blankets in her arms, rocking it gently as she peered at it in wonder. Arthur stared, eyes already stinging as John hesitantly stepped forward. He seemed relieved that at least she and the baby had survived, but Arthur could only imagine how much his heart was racing as Annabelle offered him his child. Memories of the first time he held Isaac filled his mind while John reluctantly accepted the bundle. As his son was carefully passed into his father’s hold, Arthur saw a teeny tiny arm emerge from the blankets. It gave him pause, his chest tightening as he bit his tongue so hard it nearly drew blood. He almost jumped as he felt an arm link through his own and he looked down to see Maebh subtly comforting him with her touch. When he offered her a small smile in return, she gave his arm a squeeze.

“Wow,” William breathed out, staring at the little person in John’s arms. “Look at the size a’him.”

“That’s your boy, Jack,” Annabelle explained happily. “He came out just fine. He even has your eyes.”

John tried to say something, tried to form words of some kind as he stared at his baby. He struggled, brows furrowing as he contemplated the finality of it all. His son gurgled, eyes squeezed shut despite the darkness. It wasn’t long before it became too much for the unwilling father.

“Annabelle,” he began, voice unsteady as he held the baby out to her. “C-can you take him?”

She was visibly confused. “What?”

“Take him back,” he said with more clarity. “Please. I need a minute”

She couldn’t take him away fast enough. With his arms free, John rushed out of the tent, brushing passed his friends as he headed off towards the trees. Javier turned to Arthur with a frown. “Me and Pádraig will go after him. You three check on Abigail and the baby.”

Arthur nodded in agreement as Annabelle encouraged them to come in. While he and William stood staring at Jack with complete fascination, Maebh squatted down next to Abigail and spoke in a whisper. The latter was visibly upset, but Maebh hushed her with some encouraging words.

“Would either of you like to hold him?” Annabelle asked hopefully. “There’s no harm letting a few people hold him before we let the two of them get some rest.”

William looked to Arthur who shook his head with a quiet chuckle. “You go first, kid.”

Looking to Abigail for permission and receiving a small nod, William took the bundle into his arms, following Abigail’s instructions on how to hold Jack properly. He stared at the little baby with visible wonder.

“Hey there, Jack,” he murmured to the others’ amusement. “I’m William, also known as your favourite uncle.”

“Don’t you start,” Arthur retorted. “He ain’t even met me yet.”

“I’ll still be his favourite. Mark my words.”

Arthur swiftly hushed him. “Yeah, yeah.”

“You be careful with him, William,” Abigail said from the cot. “He’s only little.”

“I’ve got him, don’t worry. I would never drop him, especially after he won me some money.”

When it was Arthur’s turn to hold him, he felt himself growing a little nervous. With a small exhale, he nodded and allowed William to pass Jack into his arms. He steadied himself, cradling the baby in his arms with as much softness and tenderness that he could managed.

“There ya go,” he said gently, looking at the him with unfeigned amazement. “Lookatchu.” He couldn’t help but smile as he held the newborn, casting a glance at the new mother. “You did good, Miss Roberts.”

“I tried my best,” she replied. “Though I can’t wait to get some sleep.”

“We’ll be gone soon,” Maebh assured her as she moved to Arthur’s side, peering at Jack.He opened his little eyes for a moment, squinting at the new faces. “Jesus, he really does have John’s eyes.”

Arthur agreed and felt his cheeks reddening. She was looking at him with such genuine affection that it made him nervous. But he knew why she was smiling. He held Jack in his arms, thinking of his own lost family but still managed to keep himself together, already fond of the gang’s newest member. He stayed there until Susan returned to insist that they leave Abigail to get some rest. Eventually, each member would get to say hello to the newborn while Dutch would welcome the addition with open arms. The reactions were heartwarming and only reaffirmed Arthur’s belief that the gang would do right by Jack and try to give him a normal life, even if his daddy struggled. 

* * *

** _14th July, 1895, outside North Elizabeth_ **

_We’ve been on the road for two weeks, taking as many rests as possible along with way for Jack and Abigail. I swear, that baby gets more adorable with each passing day._

_The trek has been surprisingly fine, but we’re lucky that the weather held up for us to travel. Making the journey during winter time could have been detrimental in multiple ways, but thankfully the heat is far more manageable. Abigail has bounced back after giving birth and Jack is doing well despite his small size. She’s taken to motherhood extraordinarily well for such a young parent, while John remains distant. He’s attempted to talk to me a few more times about what I assume are his worries about being a new father, but he manages to say very little in those encounters. All I can offer him right now are some supportive words and comforting hugs that calm him down, but even still he grows more and more distant. I _ _do_ _ worry about him._

_According to Hosea and Dutch, we’re on our way to a spot in Washoe Valley, between Reno and Carson City. I’ve never been to Nevada before, but apparently they know those parts well from their frequent trips around the West. Arthur seems to know it too so at least I can be confident in whatever area they agree on. Apparently there’s a lake in the valley that is worth checking for camping spots._

_For now, we’ve stopped the caravan just on the outskirts of North Elizabeth to give everyone a rest for the night. There’s a bar nearby in a small livestock town and Hosea and Dutch have asked me to join them in grabbing a quick whiskey. Like I’d hardly turn that down._

* * *

“… And right when that bastard thinks he has me cornered, I fire my gun, hittin’ the oil lamp above his head. The whole bar bursts into flames ’cause of all the damn wooden furniture, and I slip out the back like a ghost in the night.”

Maebh found Dutch’s story entertaining, much like the majority of his tales. She’d heard plenty of the older ones on their travels, especially with the newer members needing to hear them for the first time. Hosea was another great storyteller and she didn’t care how many times he could repeat the same narrative, it never seemed to get boring. Not only were there stories to hear, but there was much to learn from these two. While the rest of the gang opted for a quiet night at their temporary camp, she was more than happy to accept the invitation into town.

“How’d you know he was after you?” she asked Dutch, finishing the end of her drink.

The prompt made Dutch grin widely. “It ain’t that hard once you know what you’re lookin’ for. Want us to teach you?”

“Always,” she confirmed. “I’m listenin’.”

“Trust you and your brother to be forever eager students,” Hosea added, leaning on the bar. He lowered his voice significantly. “We can’t fault you for that. You see that feller behind me? Ginger kid in a bowler hat.”

Maebh subtly shifted in her seat so that she could get a look at the man they were talking about. A skinny fella with said hat on his head and thick ginger hair beneath came into view and she turned back to Hosea. “Yeah, I do.”

“He’s been eyin’ Dutch’s pocket watch all night,” Hosea explained casually. “My bet is that he’s goin’ to try follow us outta here and rob us. He’s skinny, dirty clothes, and keeps starin’ at us. You just need to pay attention.”

“I can’t help but agree, my dear friend,” Dutch added. “Though I can’t blame him all that much, the kid looks starvin’.”

Maebh was intrigued by their casual attitudes and asked. “So, what’s the plan then?”

“_You_ tell us.”

She thought for a moment and set her eyes on the pistol holstered on his right thigh. “Disarm him?”

“Good idea,” Hosea agreed. “Though it has to be subtle — we don’t want to attract any unwanted attention, right?”

She scratched her chin and noticed that they were more or less finished their drinks. “D’ye think if I grab us another round, you’s could empty his gun without him seein’?”

“We can if you put on some of that Irish charm,” Dutch replied. “And keep him distracted.”

“I’ll do my best,” she replied, then walked down the bar to the stranger’s left, leaning casually on the counter top. She quickly got the bar man’s attention. “Three whiskeys please, mister.”

As he poured the shots and she passed him the money, the stranger beside her chuckled. “Jaysus, is that another Irish accent I hear?”

She turned to the stranger with a raised brow, finding him grinning at her widely. “I could say the same t’you, mister.”

He let his elbows rest on the bar, head turned to give her his undivided attention. The cockiness was practically oozing from him with the way he held himself. “Haven’t seen another paddy ’round for a while.”

“No kiddin’? Me neither.”

He offered her his hand. “Me name’s Sean.”

“Maebh,” she replied, accepting the handshake and squeezing fairly hard. “A pleasure.”

Sean started to ramble while out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hosea pluck his pistol from the holster and empty the bullets into his hand. Without giving anything away, he expertly slid the gun back into its holster, ensuring that the arrogant Irishman wouldn’t notice a thing.

She focused her full attention back on Sean as he asked her a question. “Where’re you from in Ireland?”

“Dublin.”

“Ah, I should’ve known. I’m from Donegal.”

“_Donegal?”_ she repeated incredulously. “It doesn’t bleedin’ sound like it.”

“It’s true!”

“I think you’re havin’ me on.”

“I wouldn’t dare!”

“I’m _sure_ you would,” she teased and gathered the three shot glasses in her hands. “But I won’t stay to find out.”

The man frowned with exaggerated offence. “Don’t tell me you’re leavin’ me already.”

“Unfortunately. I’m drinkin’ these with my mates and then we’re off. See ye ’round, Sean.”

She left the conversation before he could even offer a reply. As she handed a shot to both Dutch and Hosea, the former offered her a kind word. “A job well done, Miss Hennigan.”

“You two, gentlemen,” she replied and clinked her glass against there’s. “Cheers.”

They each downed their shots before gathering their things and walking out of the bar. Though she knew they were probably right, Maebh still hoped that they could be wrong about the stranger and that he might leave them alone. She was happy to follow their lead as they turned down the dark alley to where their horses were hitched. The incoming footsteps behind them were quick and loud.

She glanced over her shoulder, only to see Sean pointing his pistol at them. “Hands up, before I blow you’s away!”

For once, Maebh was the first one to laugh. “Jaysus Christ… here we go.”


	28. Heav'n Has No Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean joins the gang in his own eccentric manner, and John and Maebh's emotions finally come to a head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howiyas! Hope everyone is well. Thanks as always for the continued support with this big ol' mess. Sean is a lot more popular than I thought he would be, so I made sure to include him as much as I could. This chapter is, eh, a lot? So I'm eager to hear what you's think! As always, hope you's enjoy :)
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “The Rocky Road to Dublin” — The Tossers, “Short Trip Home” — Joshua Bell, “Beginning of the End” — Shawn James & the Shapeshifters, “End of the Affair” — Ben Howard

If Maebh had to pick her favourite gang member’s reaction to meeting Sean MacGuire, it would probably be John’s.

“You’re tellin’ me now there’s _four_ of them?”

It probably seemed like a Fenian overload and he was most likely right in some regard. Sean was, by all accounts, a _massive_ personality.

Their encounter outside the bar had been quite a disaster for the young thief. When Dutch and Hosea encouraged him to fire his gun, the resounding clicks of an empty pistol made them laugh. Sean laughed too before bursting into a blubbery mess of tears that had Maebh visibly cringing. He certainly hadn’t been expecting for Dutch and Hosea to usher him back into the bar and buy him some food. From then on, Sean’s tears disappeared and a fierce loyalty to his new saviours took its place. Bringing him back when they returned to their temporary camp was an experience for everyone. He had no problem strolling around and introducing himself, especially to the women. From talking to him enough, Maebh got the impression that he was cocky, self-assured, and somehow loveable despite his big mouth. He could be charming when he wanted to be and it was nice to have another Irish person in camp. William was even skeptical of him at first, though the two eventually gelled well and reached an understanding. Somehow, Sean made William look like the quiet one with his continuous cocksureness. Though if she had any doubt of his patriotism, his reaction to being introduced to Arthur was confirmation enough.

After hearing the older man’s name, Sean narrowed his eyes. “You an Englishman?”

Arthur sighed, already well aware of what was coming. “Do I look or sound like a goddamn Englishman to you?”

Sean was immediately squaring up, assessing the newcomer with bravado that Maebh would have found amusing had Arthur not been on the opposing end of it. “You can never be too sure with them bleedin’ snakes, slitherin’ about like they own the place.”

“I already heard all about it,” Arthur said and waved him off. “So you don’t need to tell me.”

“Well, with a name like Arthur, I can only assume you’re some sneaky Brit who doesn’t want to admit it. Who d’you think you are? Did your da name you after King Arthur?”

Unwilling to give him the time of day, Arthur stood tall and growled in a threatening tone. “Are you right in the head, boy? Or do you want me to crack open that skull o’yours and take a look?”

Despite his scrappy nature, Sean immediately eased off, holding up his hands. “Alrigh’, alrigh’. No need to be so _aggressive_ about it, I was only askin’—”

“It didn’t sound like a damn question to me, kid. So how ’bout you learn to watch your mouth and be careful who you’re talkin’ to?”

Sean stared at him before letting out a laugh. “Ah, I like you already, Arthur Morgan, even if you’re a grumpy aul fella.”

The final week of their journey was a welcome one and Maebh had begun to tire of constantly moving along with the caravan. Having never been to Nevada before, the heat was something she had to get used to. It was far hotter than South Dakota, and she would have preferred to strip down to her undergarments had it not been indecent to do so. According to Hosea, their summers were hot and their winters were cold, so right now she would have to suffer through the sweltering heat as her poor Irish skin burned under the unforgiving sun. She frequently thanked God that the gang planned on settling next to a lake, otherwise there was a high possibility that she might fry. The land and air were dry with most of the state made up of desert, though mountain ranges topped with lush forests were quite a sight as they journeyed towards their camping spot. Washoe County was named after the Native American people of the same name who inhabited the area some thirty years before, as well as the land surrounding Lake Tahoe that lay within Nevada’s border with California.

When they arrived at Washoe Lake, Maebh couldn’t help but admire the surrounding valley, the mountain ranges towering over her. She had become so used to the flat land of South Dakota that now she found herself staring at the peaks in wonder. The lake lay between Reno to the north, Carson City to the South, and Virginia City and Silver City to the east. On the northern end of the valley and lake was a place formally known as Washoe City. Once thriving with restaurants, saloons, multiple doctors and lawyers, its own newspaper, stables, and a post office, the city was now a ghost town. The valley had once been filled with abundant trees and water, and became an ideal location for Comstock mines. It soon became the centre of commerce for the area’s sawmills, quartz mills, and farms. Eventually, diminishing raw materials and banks taking over the mines business practices meant that Washoe City’s success was short-lived. Its four thousand person population dwindled over the years as the growth of surrounding cities made the settlement obsolete, residents relocating when its county seat was moved to Reno. They passed by the old ghost town as they neared their camping spot, so the history lesson from Hosea was a welcome one.

In the early afternoon on the western side of the lake, the caravan was brought to a halt. Dutch hopped down from the wagon and looked around the land with a fond smile. “Well, look at _this!_ It’s even finer than I remember it.”

“Even with all the missin’ trees?” Arthur asked as he helped Bill move some of their belongings.

“Even still,” Dutch confirmed, admiring the land. As if having a revelation, he pointed a finger at his comrade. “Arthur, son, get that camera o’yours. I wanna get a group photograph with our stage.”

Maebh’s interest piqued at that. “Did you say group photo?”

“Sure did, Miss Hennigan.” He then turned to address the gang as they got the camp into order. “Anyone who wants to get in can!”

Maebh laughed as William dragged her towards the stage and encouraged her to climb on top of its roof. “I’ll hang off the back and you get up there.”

She didn’t argue with her brother’s orders, climbing up with a helpful hand from Hosea, who sat at the stagecoach’s helm with Mr. Pearson by his side.

Arthur was already setting up his tripod when he was shooed away by Miss Annabelle, who offered to take the photo while he joined the others. Though a little hesitant at first, he couldn’t do much to argue with the woman’s insistence and instead took her advice, going to take up a spot by the stagecoach. Maebh eyed him as he climbed on to the roof and offered her a dashing smile.

With Dutch’s encouragement, others came to join the shot. Miss Grimshaw and Abigail — the latter carrying baby Jack in her arms — joined Dutch in front of the stagecoach. Bill and John came too, ascending to the coach’s roof to accompany Maebh and Arthur.

“You two sit on the edge there,” he directed them calmly. “And I’ll stand with Maebh.”

She chuckled at his commands. “Do you like organisin’ photoshoots?”

Her words seemed to amuse him and he grinned at her beneath the brim of his hat. “I figured you and I would look better up here than Williamson and Marston.”

“We can hear you, y’know,” Bill grumbled with a frown. “Ain’t no need for that.”

“You and John look good in the front,” Maebh pacified him, giving Arthur a wink. “Don’t mind him.”

As she stood to pose, Arthur gave her shoulder a nudge. “Get that rifle in your hands and we can pose like a pair of gunslingers.”

“You mean like married guns for hire?”

“You got me there — we do play the part well.”

John turned to look at the pair of them with a disgruntled expression. “Married—?”

“Eyes forward, Marston!” William cut him off and pointed to the camera. “You’ll ruin the bleedin’ photo.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hennigan,” Annabelle laughed as she readied the camera. “All eyes forward, folks. I’m ready when y’all are.”

Maebh held up her rifle as Arthur held up his own repeater, both of them posing with proud smiles. Annabelle took the photo before people went about their business and helped Mr. Pearson and Miss Grimshaw to set up their new home. When everyone was settled, Maebh strolled over to the shoreline and sat on a rock, admiring the view in content silence. That was until Sean took it upon himself to join her.

“Are ye well, Miss Hennigan?” he asked, hands on his hips. “Because you’re lookin’ well.”

She stared at him, mouth agape. “Please tell me you’re takin’ the piss, MacGuire?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I think you and I need to just face facts.”

“_Face facts?”_

“Yeah, that there’s this _tension_ between us.” 

She blinked. “Nah, you’re havin’ a laugh.”

“Love is no laughin’ matter, Maebh.”

She barked out a laugh. “_Love?_”

He moved to squat next to her, oozing confidence. “What’s to laugh at? All women fall in love with me eventually, they just can’t help themselves. Think about it — you and me, both born and bred rebel stock, startin’ new lives in America, meetin’ in a failed robbery like it was meant to be. You couldn’t even write that!”

Though someone else would have received her fist to their nose for such a ridiculous thought, Maebh genuinely found Sean’s thoughts to be quite entertaining. She admittedly enjoyed Irish banter and though she was absolutely not interested in this boy, she certainly thought he was amusing.

“_I’m_ Irish,” he continued on, gesturing to himself and then to her. “_You’re_ Irish. It just makes sense, and who could blame ye fallin’ for Sean MacGuire?”

She gave him an amused smile. “So what you’re sayin’ is, your only sellin’ point is that… you’re Irish?”

He hesitated, not expecting such a response. He let out a chuckle and held out his arms. “Do I even need another sellin’ point? You must be driven mad by all these lads in camp. Not an ounce of good ol’ Irish charm between them.”

She couldn’t help but briefly glance at Arthur as he played fetch with Copper on the outskirts of camp. “They might not have Irish charm, but they’re still pretty great even without it.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’ve got your eye on one’a them saps.”

“I don’t kiss and tell, Sean.”

“What are you doin’?”

The pair of them turned to see John standing there with Jack cradled in his arms. His expression was the very definition of sour, unwilling to hide his displeasure despite the presence of his oblivious child.

At first Maebh thought his frustration was directed at both of them, that was until Sean stood up straight and laughed heartily. “Can I help you?”

“You can help me by leavin’ her alone.”

She was quick to try interject. “John—”

Sean paid her little mind. “I didn’t realise whether or not I could talk to her was up to _you_.”

“It’s my goddamn business if someone is botherin’ my friend,” John retorted, taking a step forward. “Go annoy someone else.”

Sean, miffed by his words, took on a lower tone. “Y’know who I hate even more than the English? The Scots. So no wonder I’m not so fond of you, Johnny Boy.”

“Get the hell outta here, kid,” John said with a tired expression. “Before I make you leave.”

Sean held up his hands. “Ah Jesus, I’m only messin’, ye grumpy shite.”

“Mess around with some other woman — she _ain’t_ yours to play with.”

The younger man looked between the pair while Maebh rubbed her temple in a therapeutic fashion. Slow realisation dawned on him as a smile pulled at his lips. “Ah, I see what you’re about now, Marston, ye dirty bastard. Shouldn’t you be more concerned about that baby a’yours?”

Having reached his limit, John cleared the distance between them and managed to look especially threatening despite the child in his arms. “Do you really wanna test me, you little shit?”

“Jaysus,” Sean sighed, skipping away from him. “I know when I’m not wanted. Give it time, Maebh. You’ll fall for me soon enough. All women do eventually!”

Without another grating word, Sean sauntered back towards camp and left Maebh and John alone with Jack. She looked up at him with a frown. “Very subtle.”

“He was botherin’ you,” he argued, taking a seat next to her. “So I stepped in.”

“He actually wasn’t botherin’ me.”

“Alright, well I don’t like him talkin’ to you.”

Irked by the statement, Maebh glared at him. “Who I talk to is nothin’ to do with you.”

“It is when he talks to you like _that_,” he snapped, losing his cool enough to cause Jack to gurgle in his arms. Realising that his louder tone had disturbed his son, he calmed himself and cradled the baby in his arms. “Never mind.”

Not entirely eager to talk about it either, Maebh leaned closer to him so that she could smile at Jack. “What are you doin’ with him?”

“Abigail is restin’. She asked me to look after him.”

She hummed as he explained, grinning at the baby. “Relax your arms a bit.”

“What?”

She gave him an incredulous look and gently tapped his elbow. “Here, relax your arms, you’re too stiff with him.”

Though a bit put off, he followed her instructions, shoulders and arms easing as a result. “Since when do you know anythin’ about babies?”

She shrugged. “I know about as much as you. You two look cute together though — father and son.”

He frowned and gently rocked Jack in his arms. “I guess.”

“You do,” she insisted, looking between them. “He certainly looks like you anyway.”

“God, don’t burden the kid with that.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “Stop bein’ so self depreciatin’. It’s a compliment.”

He let out a wheezy laugh. “I ain’t sure if it is, darlin’.”

“Shut it,” she replied, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. “He’s a cute baby.”

“Does that mean I’m cute too?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

John looked between her and Jack. “You wanna hold him?”

She tried to hide her nervous excitement but didn’t do a great job of it. “Can I?”

He nodded and then passed her Jack. “Easy, there ya go. You got him.”

Being as careful as she could, Maebh took Jack into her arms. Though her heart thumped with the anxiety, she couldn’t help but grin at his little face. Holding a baby could be nerve-wrecking, considering you had a responsibility to protect the little one in your arms. She could imagine it was a little easier when it was your own baby, but even still, holding Jack was quite a surreal experience.

She gently touched his little hand with her finger, mesmerised by how tiny his digits were compared to hers. As he grabbed on to her finger with his whole fist, she said. “This is kinda mental.”

John leaned towards her, his arm propped on the ground just behind her back. He looked between her and his son. “What is?”

“That you helped to make him,” she clarified before offering Jack a smile. “Isn’t it mad, little man? That you came from your da?”

Jack gurgled, a bubble of spittle forming on his lips. The action made her laugh and she felt thankful that she got to hold him him on a good day.

“Do you want kids?” John asked curiously.

“Maybe someday,” she admitted. “Someday in the future. It’d be kinda nice to have my own family on my own farm. Though I think William has been a little more eager for that dream than me. It doesn’t seem overly realistic with this life.”

“You never know. Life is random but I think any guy would be lucky to have you.”

She looked up to find John watching her with a small smile. With a thick gulp she met his gaze, realising how closely they were sitting — far closer than friends _should_. His brown eyes flickered over her face before they stopped on her lips. Despite the undeniable desire in her chest urging her to lean in, she looked away first, focusing her attention on the baby in her arms. John said nothing, but she could feel his eyes still burning into her.

Those few seconds had felt so much longer, guiltily so. She wondered whether there would always but some part of her eager to go back to their old, carefree ways.

Despite her subtle dismissal, John didn’t shy away from her. He stayed close, watching over his son in her arms.

Perhaps this, like most things, would simply take time.

* * *

** _5th June, 1896, outside Carson City, Nevada_ **

_I have to admit, this past year spent back West has been a welcome change._

_While I was at first not entirely eager about leaving South Dakota, seeing the familiar sights and enjoying the free-spirited ideals has changed my mind. Everyone has settled into the new spot relatively well. Maebh and William aren’t suffering as much in the heavy heat as they used to. We’re back to earning money and familiarising ourselves with locals that might need our help. Everyone except for Marston, that is. He’s been especially distant lately, going out on jobs by himself and fighting with Abigail any chance he gets. Their relationship has severely worsened in the last year, so much so that he’s barely making any effort with his now year old son. Half his time is spent getting drunk with Bill and making an idiot out of himself. Stern talking to’s from Dutch and Hosea seem to have little impact and I’ve practically given up on helping him myself. Part of me doesn’t even recognise him anymore._

_In-gang issues aside, we received word from Matthew that the O’Driscolls aren’t far away, apparently temporarily operating in Utah. Though I’ve no idea what they’re up to, I also have no desire in knowing. As well as Matthew, we received a letter from Josiah Trelawny, explaining that he’ll be passing by for a visit in the next few days. Apparently he has some interesting work for us._

* * *

Arthur let out a sigh and threw his cards into the centre of the table. “Ah, I fold.”

Bill grinned at the move, opting to raise by a big amount. “That’s a shame, Morgan. I was lookin’ forward to takin’ more of your money.”

“Don’t get so confident yet, Mr. Williamson,” Annabelle reminded him as she met his raise. “You’ve still got me and Mr. Wilson to deal with.”

Arthur watched curiously as the trio progressed on and couldn’t help but grin as Annabelle won the pot. Bill growled and slammed the table with a large hard. “Goddammit!”

Annabelle snickered as she took her winnings. “I didn’t peg you for such a sore loser.”

Arthur gave her an incredulous look as she passed him the deck of cards to deal. “Please tell me that was a joke.”

“Well played, Miss Annabelle,” Pádraig said as new cards were dished out. “I really thought you were bluffin’.”

“What can I say? I’ve got a mighty fine poker face.”

Bill grumbled. “Some mighty fine luck I would say.”

A noise from behind him caught Arthur’s attention. He glanced over his shoulder to see William with Jack on his shoulders, riding around camp as if he was a horse. The child clapped and laughed as William stomped his feet in the dirt, huffing and neighing without a care in the world.

“Well, look at them,” Annabelle noted with a grin. “Maybe he was right about saying he would be the favourite uncle.”

Arthur couldn’t even pretend to be bitter about it when Jack looked so happy. “Awh, that kid was always a better actor than me anyways.”

“Are we really sure that he isn’t Hennigan’s kid?” Pádraig asked. “Just look at them.”

Bill shook his head. “He definitely ain’t, but I’m sure John wishes he was. Hey, Hennigan! What are you gonna do next? Teach the kid how to speak Gaelic?”

William stopped dead in his tracks and set his eyes on Bill. In a flash, he was returning Jack to his mother and going to fetch Sean.

Bill looked perplexed. “Uh, what did I do?”

“Jesus Christ,” Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, you’ve done it now.”

“Done _what?”_

Before Arthur could even begin to explain the problem, William reappeared with Sean by his side and quickly approached the table. “What did you just say, Billson?”

Bill, visibly perplexed. “I didn’t do nothin’!”

“Ye did in your hoop. What did you just say to me?”

“_Jesus_, I only asked if you was gonna teach the kid Gaelic.”

There was a pause, in which Sean gasped. “Gaelic? _Gaelic?”_

William turned to his fellow Irishman. “D’you know what the hell _Gaelic_ is?”

“He sure as shite isn’t talkin’ ’bout Gaelic Football.”

Pádraig’s eyes darted between the three of them. “I’m goin’ to stay out of this.”

With a roll of his eyes, William pointed a threatening finger at Bill. “The word you’re lookin’ for is ‘Irish’ or _‘Gaeilge’_. That’s the name of my language — _Gaeilge_. And it’s a Celtic language, by the way. Gaelic isn’t what I speak, alright? That’s a language only used with Scots Gaelic and sometimes Breton in Northern France. Otherwise it’s an adjective and not a fuckin’ noun, yih twat!”

“Do we look like a pair of bleedin’ Scots to you?” Sean asked impatiently.

Bill stammered. “Well, no but—” 

“Then we sure as shite don’t speak Gaelic,” William insisted. “Callin’ Irish Gaelic is like callin’ all fruits bananas! It’s _Gaeilge!”_

“Alright—”

“Say it!” Sean quickly added.

“Alright, _Gaeilge_,” Bill repeated, struggling with the word. “Y’all speak _Gaeilge_. Are you happy now?”

“Delighted,” William replied sarcastically. “Maybe I’ll teach Jack how to say you’re a bleedin’ donkey _as gaeilge_.”

“I think he’s got the message kid,” Arthur reassured him while trying not to laugh. “Let’s try not start a fight at camp today.”

“Hey, Arthur!”

With another brawl avoided, he turned to see who was calling out for him. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw Maebh waving him over to Dutch’s tent. Abandoning the game of poker, he hurried to join her and grinned as he saw not only Dutch but Trelawny in the tent as well.

“My, it’s been a while, Josiah,” he greeted him with an inclination of his head. “How’re you doin’?”

“Good, Arthur,” Trelawny replied with his usual chipper attitude. “Never better! This is a nice new spot you have here.”

“Isn’t it just?” Dutch agreed. “It’s been kind to us this past year. Very kind indeed.”

“I am sure that living out West is more complimentary to your… personalities.”

Maebh let out a snort. “That’s one way to say it.”

“While I do love to humour you all with compliments, I come with a very lucrative job opportunity.”

Dutch leaned back in his chair. “Tell us more, Josiah.”

“I might have a friend up in Reno — a crooked lawman who has become exceedingly bitter in his profession of late. He’s informed me of a stagecoach due to run from Yerington to Reno next month. He’s said it will be loaded with rich folk and guarded by a handful of hired guns, nothing too strenuous for you boys.”

“Sounds interestin’,” Arthur noted, scratching his stubbly chin. “Tell us more.”

“Apparently, there is a long stretch of trail between Silver Springs and the Truckee River that is mostly deserted and perfect for a robbery. I thought you boys might be interested in talking to our crooked friend.”

“Sounds to me like a good take,” Dutch contemplated. “Arthur, Miss Maebh, how would you two like to take on the job?”

Noticing the smile that Maebh was offering him, Arthur nodded .”I think we’d love to.”

“Wonderful. Though I think you’d be better off havin’ another man with you.”

“What about Javier?” Maebh suggested. “I can ask him.”

“Then it’s settled.” Dutch got to his feet and offered Trelawny a handshake. “You do always come bearin’ gifts, my friend.”

“I do try,” Josiah agreed. “I only ask for my fair share and a hot meal.”

“It’ll be hot, though I can’t say if it’ll be to your likin’ or not…”

With a new tip from Trelawny under their belts, Arthur was happy to sit with him and eat knowing that they had a very rewarding job coming up in the future. The fact that he could work with Maebh yet again was an added bonus and he always liked having Javier and his calm disposition around too. He could rest easy knowing he would have a hard-working team watching his back. Perhaps he was also more comfortable in the knowledge that he could protect Maebh too, though he wasn’t about to admit that to her anytime soon.

* * *

A few days after Trelawny arrived, Maebh awoke in the middle of the night with a start.

At first concerned with having her sleep jarringly disrupted, she released a sigh when she felt the demanding pressure of her bladder needing relief. Stepping awkwardly over a sleeping William, she grabbed her coat to cover her chemise and tip-toed out into the cool night air. The camp was dead still considering the early morning hour and she did her best to remain quiet as she walked over to the latrine hidden within the bristly shrubbery further inland from the lake.

Finished her business, she straightened out her clothes and moved to head back to her tent before spotting a figure moving through the darkness. She squinted and frowned upon realising that it was John leading Applejack out of camp. The horse carried a large sack across his back while John had his own satchel tossed over his shoulder.

_Huh, that’s weird. What’s he doin’?_

Immediately suspicious, she stomped after him.

When she was close enough she announced herself. “Where’re you off to?”

Her words startled him as he turned to meet her gaze. He bared the resemblance of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Uh…”

Suddenly, the air grew thick. The playful smile she had been previously wearing slowly fell from her face. While he looked at his feet, she pressed him uncertainly. “John?”

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “I’m leavin’.”

The finality of his tone made her blood run cold. Standing on the spot, she stared at him as he finally looked back at her. “Leavin’? On a job?”

“No, it ain’t a job. I’m leavin’ the gang.”

They stared at each other in silence, Maebh’s eyes boring into him. She smirked hesitantly. “Very funny.”

“It ain’t a joke,” he replied sadly, expression pained but resigned. “I can’t do… _this_ anymore.”

“Do what?”

He ran a hand over his face. “_This!_ This life I’ve been forced into. It ain’t for me.”

“_Forced into?”_ she repeated in disbelief, trying to stay calm. “What’ve you been forced into?”

“I ain’t fit to be a father,” he elaborated with visible frustration. “I don’t want a kid right now but for some damn reason no one seems to listen to me.”

“I’ve listened to you,” she pled, taking a step towards him. “John, I’ve tried to listen to your worries and offer you the best advice I can, but you can’t change what’s been done. Do you think Abigail planned for this to happen?”

“Hell if I know. I don’t even know if that boy is mine—”

She ran both her hands down her face. “Not this again.”

“Why don’t we just let Hennigan be his daddy? Or Arthur? He doesn’t need me around him when I have nothin’ to offer. I’ll just mess him up.”

“No you won’t! What’ll mess him up is his da runnin’ off on him and his ma when he’s barely a year old!”

“Keep your damn voice down,” he hushed her, stepping closer to her. “I don’t wanna wake anyone—”

“Does anyone else know you’re leavin’?” she demanded.

He was silent for a moment, unable to do anything other than shake his head. 

That was enough of an answer for her. “Wow. So you’re runnin’ off on all of us without even lettin’ us know? Just like that?”

“What, like you care?” he snapped. “No one ’round here cares about what I want! No one even bothered to listen to me!”

Her heart raced, urgency setting in as she desperately tried to convince him to stay. “I listened to you! I _care!_ I just want you to be alright.”

He considered her words, chest rising and falling as he breathed deeply. A softness in his eyes dared to appear, reminding her of the many nights he had been so vulnerable with her. “Come with me then.”

Taken aback, her mouth fell open. “_Excuse me?”_

“Run away with me,” he implored, reaching out to take her hand in his. “We can start a new life some place else, away from all this. We could get that farm like you dreamed about, live how we want together.”

“So I just leave my brother while you leave Abigail and Jack? What about Hosea and Arthur?”

He frowned at her words, waving her off. “Jesus… You always gotta bring it back to Morgan, don’t’cha?

“Well one of us has to use our head!”

He stood firm, prodding at his own chest with a rigid finger. “I _am_ usin’ my damn head. We could leave together and—”

“And _what?”_ she pressed him. “Solve all of our problems by shaggin’ each other?”

“It ain’t like that—”

“Like hell it isn’t.”

“Why are you always like _this?”_ he nearly shouted, trying very hard to keep himself from waking the others. The softness in his eyes began to disappear and was replaced by a fiery rage. “Why do you always act like I don’t care about you?”

Maebh’s heart quickened its beating, a hollow feeling of retched anxiety forming in her chest. Her voice shook despite her words being so insistent. “’Cause you don’t.”

“Bullshit I don’t! Maybe if you’d stop puttin’ words in my mouth you’d understand.”

She didn’t know why, but as John’s words grew more accusatory, the worry inside her grew with it, flaring into defensive statements that spewed out of her. “You can’t just come to me when you’re sick of bein’ a father! It doesn’t work like that!”

“I ain’t tryin’ to mess you around, Maebh, and maybe if you let me finish a goddamn sentence you would get that. I don’t _want_ to be a father, I don’t _want_ Abigail when all she does is tell me that I’m a pathetic deadbeat. Things change, feelin’s change, that’s just the way things is.”

“So wait, what you’re tellin’ me is that after pining for Abigail all this time, and after finally gettin’ her undivided attention, you want to leave?”

“It ain’t like that and you know it—”

“I’m not so sure that I do know.”

Her admittance appeared to hurt him but he never shied away from her, staring her down despite their very aggressive tempers. “I ain’t so sure about that. I think you’re just lyin’ to yourself. You don’t want to admit that maybe I care about you more than I should and that you might possibly feel the same way if you would just stop lyin’ to yourself and pinin’ hopelessly after Arthur.”

“You’re mad,” she snapped, turning away from him. “You’re talkin’ shite, John. Stop with the bullshit and the mind games.”

“I ain’t the one lyin’—!”

“Sure you’re not,” she rambled with her back to him. “I get it. No problem layin’ with her all you want, but as soon as anythin’ requirin’ responsibility appears, you run out of here with your tail between your damn legs.”

“Maebh, wouldja listen to me?”

“Why should I _bother_ when you’re so willin’ to leave us? Huh? Why should I? I’m done talkin’ to you.”

She barely got one foot in front of the other before a firm hand wrapped around her wrist. In a flash she was jerked back and John’s lips were on her. His kiss — just like his words — shocked her to her very core. The familiarity of his tenderness came rushing back despite their extended time apart. His movement was forceful, arms locking around her and preventing her escape. At first, she didn’t dare try, finding herself lost in the intimacy as her hands found their way to his chest. John’s words seemed to ring true. There was a little part of her that wanted to mindlessly indulge in his unrealistic promises, in the rush she felt in his arms. Despite such impractical ideas, her anger only grew and she managed to push him away from her with a harsh shove.

“Darlin’—”

Her hand met his cheek with a resounding smack, turning his head away from her with its force. She almost apologised, almost condemned her reaction before she realised that she wasn’t sorry. John didn’t even appear to be shocked by it. Instead, he slowly met her eyes with visible hopelessness.

“You _don’t_ get to touch me anymore,” she sneered, feeling tears spill from her eyes. “Not when you’re so willin’ to drop me — to drop all of us — as soon as you have the chance!

“You think this is easy for me?” he asked sombrely. 

“I don’t care whether it’s easy or not. The fact of the matter is you _want_ to go and you’re _goin’_ to.” She paused to aggressively wipe the blurriness from her eyes. “What the hell are you waitin’ for? If you want’a leave then just _leave_. I can’t believe I ever thought… ever even considered you to be my friend.”

Now he was the one who was yelling. “We were more than just damn _friends!”_

“Well y’know what, John? Now we can be fuckin’ _nothing!”_

He took a step back as the vicious words hit him hard. His eyes shimmered, emotions running high. The skeptical way he stared at her hurt, but not more than his desire to abandon them all. She was done and it terrified her — his accusations were like an immense weight dropped on her shoulders and his readiness to renounce his family left an immensely bitter taste in her mouth.

“Gewon!” she urged him. “Fuck off just like you planned to! I hope I die before I ever have to see you again, John Marston!”

Feeling the scorching burn of her insult, John shook his head and turned from her, hiding his own tears and skulking off with Applejack by his side. Maebh stood and watched him leave for what felt like the longest time, tears falling and lungs burning. Her anger did not ease, nor did her crying. She stumbled back to camp, trying to keep her sobs from getting loud at the risk of waking anyone, though apparently their argument had already taken care of that.

Arthur appeared from his tent in a daze, wide eyes staring in confusion at her state. “What the hell is goin’ on? What’s with all the yellin’?”

“Take it up with that bastard, Marston,” she snapped, skirting by him to get to her tent. “I want’a be alone.”

“Hold on, Maebh” her urged her, reaching for her wrist just as John had done. “Are you—?”

“_Leave me alone!”_ she all but screamed, wrenching her arm from his grasp as though his touch burned her.

Arthur, stunned by her volatile reaction, looked like a deer who caught sight of a cougar. He held his hands up like she was a wild animal. “Hey, easy now. I’m sorry, alright? Just tell me where John is.”

“Gone,” she bit back but with less irritation and more hopelessness. “For good. He couldn’t be arsed bein’ a da anymore”

Upon hearing her jarring statement, Arthur looked toward the direction in which she had come. “Wait here, I’ll go talk to him.”

She shook her head. “I’m goin’ to my tent to be alone. Just leave me be, Arthur.”

He didn’t argue, though she didn’t give him much of a chance to. She was already disappearing into her tent and curling into herself on her bedroll. She knew William was awake but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

She remained lying on her side as she listened to Arthur hurrying off after John before returning alone a few minutes later. She could hear conversation outside but never made out what was being said — her mind was too preoccupied replaying her argument with John over and over. His words cut her deeply and it seemed as though she had done the same to him. Even still, the palpitations in her chest never eased and sleep never took her despite her exhaustion. His accusations brought a cold reality that she refused to admit or even acknowledge. 

Instead, she let her rage fester into hatred for a man she had once considered not only her lover, but her best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the trauma. It's a big yikes, I know...


	29. I Do Bite My Thumb, Sir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang deals with the aftermath of John's departure, and Maebh and Abigail have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howiyas, while we're all mourning the loss of John, hopefully a change in perspective will help us feel better. Thanks as always for reading, commenting, all that good stuff. It makes me very soft. Enjoy!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Rye Whiskey” — CamillasChoice, “The Old Favourite” — The Gloaming, “Thank You” — All Tvvins, “Feel First Life” — Jon Hopkins

Upon hearing that Marston had fled from camp in the middle of the night, William thought that there was cause for celebration.

At least at first.

Admittedly, he did let his own dislike of the man take priority and decided to get absolutely smashed drunk.

No Marston constantly trying to ride his sister? No Marston arguing with Abigail day in and day out? No Marston trying his best to ignore little Jackie?

Yes, this was _definitely_ a good reason to get locked. The gang members who were quite bitter about John abandoning them seemed to agree. It appeared to be their own way of coping so no one could judge them all that much. Some of them preferred to be alone — like Abigail, Hosea, and Maebh — and others were happy to drink their sorrows away. One of whom was Arthur.

The following afternoon after John’s disappearance, his feelings on the matter became quite clear. William found himself sat around the campfire, already having drank his weight in whiskey. Sean, Bill, the Callander Brothers, Javier, and Uncle sat with him, using the opportunity to vent over John’s cowardice. Not only were people irked by him leaving Abigail and Jack, but many of them seemed to take his leaving personally. Not only had he abandoned his son, but the rest of his family that had protected him for years. It didn’t take long for Arthur to join them.

“You fellers mind if I sit?” he asked, then squatted down next to William when he received only positive responses. “Anyone got a beer?”

“Got a whole crate-full,” Uncle said with a laugh, plucking out a bottle and tossing it over. “Here.”

Arthur thanked him before popping the bottle cap off the end of his boot. William eyed him curiously despite his woozy head. He had already gotten the full story off Maebh, but she wasn’t exactly eager about reliving it. At first feared she had feared what exactly the others had overheard. Despite the argument, it seemed that people where unaware of the more intimate details regarding John and Maebh’s relationship, playing down their shouting to friends falling out and nothing more. Part of him wondered whether they just didn’t want to discuss it, but whatever parts of their argument that were overheard still weren’t loud enough for words to be correctly understood. He supposed that Maebh being upset about his absence wasn’t exactly unrealistic, given how close they have always been. One friend mourning for another seemed to be realistic enough for them, considering everyone felt the same. People either missed John, hated him for leaving, or both. He was at least relieved that Uncle hadn’t seen this as a chance to out their interrupted rendezvous to the others.

“How’re you doin’, English?” Sean asked the newcomer.

Arthur frowned. “What’chu call me?”

“Wouldja rather I call ye King Arthur?”

“Don’t call him that,” William defended the older man, tossing a bottle cap in Sean’s direction. “Jaysus, he doesn’t deserve to be associated with Brits.”

“You’s are shite at takin’ a joke,” Sean grumbled, trying to avoid the flying projectile andfailing miserably. “I’m only messin’.”

“How’re you gettin’ on?” William asked him, ignoring his fellow Irishman.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. “Just tryin’ to get on with it like everyone else.”

“Hey, Arthur,” Bill called him, swaying in his seat. “Can I ask, what happened when you caught up with Marston that night? What did he say?”

Arthur grimaced, hiding his eyes beneath the brim of his hat. William kept quiet and hoped that he might answer, eager to hear about the encounter from someone else’s perspective. 

After a few seconds of silence, Arthur spoke up and the crowd remained transfixed. “Well, I woke up because I heard all the fightin’. I didn’t have a clue what was goin’ on, but as I came out of my tent, Miss Maebh was walkin’ by, tears streamin’ down her cheeks. When she told me what direction he’d gone, so I went after him, managin’ to find him ridin’ his horse not too far up the road. I had to force him to stop — he didn’t seem to want to talk to me at all.

“He didn’t say much other than that he wanted to leave and that he didn’t want to be in the gang anymore. He had had enough of it all. I told him that it would mean a lot to me if he stayed, that he had to do right by his boy and his woman. But my words didn’t mean a thing. He cursed me, sayin’ that he was sick of this life and sick of livin’ in my shadow. I told him that he didn’t realise how lucky he was to have a family, and he told me to ‘mind my own goddamn business’.” He paused to let out a bitter laugh. “Told me that if I was so concerned ’bout the boy, that I could be his daddy. Apparently, I’m just another reason why he left, whatever that means.

“Then we started shoutin’, so I can’t exactly judge Maebh for losin’ her cool neither. I ain’t never seen him like that before, but maybe I didn’t know John as well as I thought I did. All those years of bein’ brothers didn’t matter. _None_ of it goddamn mattered.”

Despite being blind drunk, William couldn’t help but feel for the man. The pair of them had grown up together, and it was hard not to take it personally.

“I don’t mean to put a dampener on things,” Arthur assured them, sipping his beer. “I didn’t come here to ruin the mood.”

William was quick to pacify him. “Honestly we were just sittin’ here givin’ out about Marston, so you’re grand.”

“It wasn’t fair of him to talk to you like that, Morgan,” Mac added. “If I ever see that bastard again, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Javier seemed to agree. “I haven’t been with you all for long, but abandoning Jack and Miss Roberts like that? There’s no excuse.”

“What does Dutch think of all a’this?” Bill asked with visible confusion. “He’s been real’ quiet ’bout the whole thing.”

Arthur sighed. “He thinks he’ll come back eventually. When I came back to camp, I lead Dutch and Hosea to where I’d confronted him. We tried to track him, but lost the trial in Reno. We ain’t got a clue where he’s gone. Hosea, well he’s angry but Dutch… he seemed to have more faith in him. Though he always was the golden boy, so I can’t say I’m all that surprised by the reaction.”

“Well we agree with ya, Arthur,” Bill animatedly replied. “He ain’t welcome ’round here no more, that’s for sure.”

“He was always a bit of a sour feller,” Uncle agreed. “He had no problem houndin’ an old man with a serious illness.”

Sean nodded along. “I know I only just got here, but I always thought he seemed like a bit of a bollocks.”

“Marston can go to hell,” Davey added. “I won’t let him ruin our drinkin’ too. How ’bout a song? To lighten the mood a bit?”

Javier was already fetching his guitar. “I like how you think, Davey. I know a good song to take our mind off things.”

The purchase of that guitar had been one of the best things Javier ever did in William’s opinion. Having already mastered the instrument back in Mexico, he continued to practice, improving his skills with each passing day. It also gave William another musician to play with during get-togethers. He carefully plucked a few chords that the group immediately recognised, and William and Sean were the first two voices to lead them into the familiar song:

_“O Mollie, O Mollie, it’s for your sake alone;_

_That I leave my old parents, my house, and my home;_

_My love for you, it has caused me to roam;_

_I'm a rabble rouser and Dixie’s my home._

_Jack o’ diamonds, Jack o’ diamonds;_

_I know you of old;_

_You rob my poor pockets;_

_Of silver and gold;_

_O Whiskey, you Villain;_

_You’ve been my downfall;_

_You’ve kicked me, you’ve cuffed me;_

_And cause me to brawl…”_

The tune seemed to put some smiles back on people’s faces, even Arthurs. They continued drinking and singing for a while before William’s stomach got the better of him. He heaved himself to his unsteady feet. “Ugh, I think I’ve had enough.”

“Ah, c’mon, Hennigan,” Davey insisted. “Have another drink.”

William shook his head, trying very hard to focus on his friend. “I genuinely think I might pass out if I do. I’m also starvin’.” He looked around the group. “Anyone want tea? Sean? Yeah? Smashin’. Does anyone want a rrrasher?”

Despite the absolute state of him, William managed to cook up some rashers without burning camp down, as well as a pot of tea. The warm liquid managed to help him grasp his drunken thoughts a little better. Upon handing out food to those who asked for it, he picked up supplies and let Arthur know what he was up to.

“I’m gonna go bring some a’these to me sister,” he explained. “She bleedin’ loves rashers.”

Arthur cast a glance at their shared tent and nodded. “That’s probably a good call. How’s she doin’?”

“Still the same really. She’s upset and says that she hates him so I don’t exactly blame her.”

The brunette listened to him intently. “Right. I’d like to, well, talk to her, but I’m afraid of upsettin’ her, or somethin’.” He quickly cleared his throat and checked that the others weren’t listening. “I feel bad, y’know? I think I made that night worse for her by makin’ her angry. I’d love to talk to her, but I’m worried I’ll come across like a goddamn fool again.”

William could feel his lips pulling into an eager grin. “She’d love to talk to you.”

Arthur seemed surprised. “_Really?”_

“Yeah, really. She’d love that, y’know. I know that she’s upset and all and you’re worried ’bout makin’ it worse, but you won’t. She’s told me before that talkin’ to you makes her feel better.”

Though he had at first expected for Arthur to dismiss him, the man appeared surprisingly eager to believe him. He was still nervous clearly, but satisfied with his answer nonetheless. He hoped his words would push him enough to actually speak to her. Maybe with Marston gone and Arthur’s hardness easing, there might be a chance for the two of them to quit dancing around each other and finally just _get on with it_. Lord knows William was sick of their carry on.

“Thanks, kid,” Arthur said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He gave him a stern ‘you better’ before heading off to try ease his sister’s woes. She was sitting in their tent alone, reading through a book that she hadn’t made much progress on.

William smiled as he joined her inside. “I brought you some rashers and tea.”

Maebh looked up at him with an amused expression. “Are you drunk?”

“Maybe?” he replied and heavily sat himself next to her. “Do you _really_ care when I come bearin’ gifts?”

She shrugged. “A fair point. Thanks.”

“Here’s your tea and take as many of these as you want. They’re not too crispy — just how you like them.”

“I’m very lucky to have you.”

He grinned widely before shoving a whole rasher into his mouth and making her laugh.

“Would you chew your bloody food?” she insisted, picking up one for herself. “The last thing I need is for you to choke.”

“But I made you laugh though.” He had a sip of his tea to wash the meat down. “And that’s the main thing.”

“I’ll give you that, at least.” Eating the rasher with visible satisfaction, she then tasted her own drink before sighing in appreciation. “I needed this, thank you.”

“How’re you feelin’?” he asked between munching on their shared food.“’Considerin’ everythin’?”

“Not very different. Angry, upset, guilty—”

“Hey, what do you have to feel guilty about?” He couldn’t help himself, but William immediately went into his defensive brother mode. The concept of John Marston _still_ inadvertently causing his sister problems even _after_ leaving was the last thing he wanted to hear.

She hesitated for a moment, staring down into her cup of tea. “Just let me explain myself, alright? I’m not trying to make this about myself — ’cause it’s not — I can’t help but feel like I had somethin’ to do with him runnin’ off. As I’ve already said to you, he started sayin’ some shite about there bein’ ‘more’ between us. Maybe he was usin’ that as an excuse to justify his detest towards bein’ a father? That he just missed havin’ no obligations or responsibilities with me? If I hadn’t’ve agreed to this physical relationship, it never would’ve been a factor in his chances with Abigail. I feel bad ’cause I’m part of the problem basically.”

Though he could see where she was coming from, he still felt that his sister’s guilt was unjust. “Whether or not Marston left isn’t your fault. He _chose_ to leave, so don’t be blamin’ yourself for his cowardice.”

“But I still had somethin’ to do with it,” she insisted. “He basically said as much.”

William could feel himself sobering up purely because of her distress alone. “That’s still his problem. He said what he said, and if that’s the way he feels then it’s on him. Maybe he was just lookin’ for an excuse to leave and he used your relationship as just that. We could speculate on that fella’s motivations for hours and we’d get bleedin’ nowhere. Whatever John chose to do is John’s problem and don’t let him guilt you when he chose to up and leave.”

“It’s hard to _not_ think about it. When his words were somethin’ to the effect of ‘maybe I care about you more than I should, and maybe you’d care ’bout me if you stopped focusin’ on Arthur’, it’s hard to _not_ think about them.”

William sighed, finding it hard to concentrate with the amount of whiskey in his system. “Look, whether Marston cared about you or not, you couldn’t have done anythin’ to influence his decision. You’s both knew what the relationship was when you went into it. If he cared ’bout you _that_ much, then maybe he shouldn’t’ve been sleepin’ with Abigail too, and maybe he should’ve told you before we found out she was pregnant. I’d have more respect for him if he’d been honest with you. There’s a lot’a things he could’a done, but didn’t.”

Though he was sure that his words rang true, Maebh was still visibly troubled. So used to his sister’s ways of expressing her emotions, he was beginning to wonder whether there _was_ in fact more going on between her and Marston. He wasn’t sure whether it was blatant denial or obliviousness on her part. Either way, she was rapt with regret.

He wrapped his fingers around his cup, feeling the heat from the liquid seeping through into his skin. “I’m locked so I don’t know whether my ideas would be any use to ye, but if you’re feelin’ this bad about it, then maybe have a chat with Abby.”

His sibling eyed him with contempt. “You’ve got to be jokin’…”

“She wouldn’t hate you,” he insisted. “Look, as far as any of us knew, the two of them weren’t officially together or even exclusive when you and John were ridin’, so I doubt she’ll be angry with you. It would probably help to put your mind at ease.”

There was a moment of silent contemplation on her part, idly chewing on a rasher as the clogs in her mind began moving. When she met his eyes, her tone was teasing. “Yeah, you’re definitely locked.”

He snorted. “Of course I am, but that doesn’t mean I’m necessarily wrong. I just don’t like seein’ you upset. It makes me wanna sock him in the mouth all over again.”

“I’m sure it does.”

“Without seemin’ like I’m just tryin’ to slag him off,” he started to explain, waving a rasher around to emphasise his point. “John chose to leave and that’s on him. You’d be better off focusin’ on your friends that haven’t left you. Talk to Abigail and tell her how you’re feelin’ if it’ll ease your mind. And don’t forget about Arthur; he’s just as worried ’bout you as I am, except he’s afraid to talk to you in case he upsets you again. Focus on what you have right in front of you, alright? That’s probably the best drunken advice I could offer.”

“I appreciate you talkin’ to me,” she assured him, scooting over to sit closer to him. She let her head rest on his shoulder before adding. “I’m lucky to have you as my brother.”

“Ah, you’re such a sap,” he laughed but didn’t hesitate in wrapping his free arm around her. “I only want to help you.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m lucky to have you, even when you’re drunk.”

“I’m a scream when I’m drunk and how dare you imply otherwise.”

“Oh shut up,” she teased him with a small smile. “I still love you, yih dope.”

He couldn’t even pretend to be irked by her words. Instead he laid a kiss on her forehead and hoped to himself that she would eventually be alright, no matter what happened. He promised himself that he would make sure of it. “Yeah, I love you too.”

* * *

** _12th July, 1896, outside Carson City, Nevada_ **

_I’ve been thinking about William’s words a lot and have come to the conclusion that he’s probably right._

_While time has passed since John left us all, my guilt-ridden mind hasn’t eased. I can’t stand the thought of him and yet I still miss him. I feel bad every time I see Abigail and Jack trying to get by. Times like those only make me feel more bitterness towards John and myself. The more I think about it, the more realistic William’s suggestion seems to be._

_I’m hoping to talk to Abigail today. Hosea and Dutch agreed to watch over the boy this morning while Abigail spends some time alone in her tent. It seems like a good opportunity to talk to her before I have to go and rob that stagecoach with Arthur and Javier later. Hopefully both encounters go smoothly, though I somehow feel more anxious about facing Abigail rather than the stagecoach._

* * *

Maebh shut her journal and set it down on the crate in her tent. Atop of it was a number of her possessions, including the drawing of Dullahan that Arthur made and the photo Annabelle had taken of them when they first arrived at Washoe Lake last year. She had numerous other photos stored in her journal, but this one seemed worthy of a frame. Her eyes sought out Abigail and Jack in the photo before she forced herself to exit her tent and walk over to where her friend currently sat washing her clothes.

As she noticed her approaching, Abigail offered her a warm smile. “Well ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Need a hand?” Maebh replied. “Considerin’ you’re washin’ for two?”

“If you don’t mind,” she said and nodded for her to take a seat. “I ain’t about to turn that offer down.”

Maebh sat down in front of her and picked up a blouse to dunk into the bucket of water. “How’re you and the boy gettin’ on?”

“Okay, a little better. He likes spendin’ time with his Uncle Dutch and Uncle Hosea. I’m hopin’ he’s just too young to even notice John’s absence, but I don’t know. At least I’m lucky that they’re willin’ to help. It’s, well, hard, y’know?”

“I don’t know,” Maebh admitted thoughtfully. “But I can imagine it is. If you ever need help me and William are always around too.”

Abigail offered her a tired smile. “Oh, I know. The two of you are great with Jack and I appreciate the help. It’s more than John ever offered me.”

Maebh frowned bitterly. “It’s not like he ever had the bar very high.”

“Not at all. I told him that it ain’t even about me and him no more — I just want him to be a father to the boy. He deserves that much.” As if realising that she was venting, Abigail sighed and pushed some loose hair behind her ear with a sud-covered hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to rant about it.”

“You can rant all you like,” Maebh offered in reply. Her hands hesitated in the water as she studied her friend’s tired expression. With a deep breath, she forced her next words out. “I was, eh, actually hopin’ to talk to you about him.”

Abigail was a sharp woman despite her youth, though Maebh supposed she had to be. She’d been dealt a pretty rough hand since she found herself in that orphanage. And now after everything she meets a new family to help her only to be abandoned by the man who got her pregnant. She met Maebh’s gaze with visible curiosity. “About John?”

Maebh nodded, trying to ignore how her stomach was flipping. “Yeah, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure, as long as you ain’t about to tell me that he was right in leavin’.”

“Jesus…” Maebh let out a small laugh at her joke. “Do you think I’m mad enough to suggest such a thing?”

Abigail shook her head. “I certainly have more faith in you than that. What’s on your mind?”

After a steady exhale, Maebh tried her best to express her thoughts. “Since he went off, I’ve been feelin’ really guilty and responsible ’bout the whole thing.”

The younger woman let out a small scoff. “What could you possibly have to feel guilty for?”

Maebh sighed, thinking it might be better just to explain everything from the beginning. “Two years ago, John and I… We, well, slept together. It was the night after bank robbery in Watertown when we all went to celebrate in Mitchell. I was so bloody sad over how I felt about Arthur and he was in a similar situation with how he felt about you. So he suggested it as a one off thing and I agreed if it meant gettin’ some temporary comfort. But then it happened again, and again, and again until we agreed a few weeks later that maybe it could become a regular but casual thing — no strings attached, no feelings, just sex as a form of comfort. It seemed easy considering we were both pinin’ after other people, and I kept encouragin’ him to pursue you too. No one in the gang knew bar William and _Uncle_ who somehow figured it out, but it’s thankfully stayed that way. It went on for months right up until you announced your pregnancy and then I told him that we couldn’t sleep together anymore when he’s got a responsibility now as a father and to you as well.”

Maebh paused to settle herself, feeling worries creep up as she dreaded meeting Abigail in the eyes. She braved looking up to find her staring back with a somewhat surprised expression. “Wow…”

“Yeah. It’s a lot, I know. I’m really sorry, Abigail, I—”

She hadn’t been expecting for her friend to interrupt her mid-sentence. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

Maebh started to stammer, trying to find the words. “It’s just… I-I feel awful, and I don’t want to hurt you—”

A wet hand was placed on her forearm, forcing her to look up to see Abigail offering her a reassuring smile. “Maebh, just talk to me. I ain’t goin’ nowhere. There’s no reason to be nervous. We’re friends — you can tell me anythin’.”

With her comforting words managing to do their job, Maebh steadied herself and continued on. “We never slept together again after that. We were just back to bein’ normal friends. But ever since the night he left, I’ve been wonderin’ if he left partially ’cause of me. Maybe he was usin’ our old arrangement as an excuse to be bitter about his new responsibilities, or somethin’, I don’t know. I just worry that maybe he wouldn’t’ve been so unreasonable with you if he hadn’t been sleepin’ with me in the first place.”

There was a brief silence as Abigail contemplated her words. Though visibly tired, she never turned her away. Having expected an all-out shouting match, Maebh thought that this was going well so far.

“I ain’t gonna lie to you, Maebh,” Abigail began calmly. “I don’t think you’ve anythin’ to feel guilty about.”

Maebh looked at her in disbelief. “_Huh?”_

“Me and John wasn’t exclusive. Even when I stopped workin’ and kept sleepin’ with him ’cause I enjoyed it, we wasn’t. I never told you that I really cared about him until after I told everyone I was pregnant. I don’t think it’s fair to blame yourself for his choices. You’ve done nothin’ but support me through this and I appreciate that, especially when he certainly wasn’t. Maybe we’re both better off without him.”

“Are you sure?” Maebh asked in disbelief. “’Cause the last thing I want’a do is ruin our friendship.”

“It ain’t ruined. Far from it. You told him not to leave and you defended me and Jack. That’s the best thing you could’a done. Honestly I’m just surprised that I didn’t guess what y’all were doin’. Though you was always friends anyway.”

“I’m sure us spendin’ time together didn’t come across as weird. I didn’t want to tell anyone ’cause I figured people would assume that there was more goin’ on.”

“Does Arthur know?”

“No, though he did ask if there was somethin’ goin’ on between us when John, William, and Tilly came back from Montrose. I said there wasn’t ’cause at the time I didn’t really think there was. It was only after that when our thing became _a thing_.”

Abigail nodded thoughtfully. “I can understand why you’d try to find comfort while lovin’ someone else and I don’t want you thinkin’ that there’s any ill will between us. But what I will say is that I think you’re mad to not see how Arthur looks at you. I know he’s been through a lot but it’s obvious to me that he really does care about you. Maybe now would be a good time to find comfort in someone who you love and loves you back.”

“I don’t know where you’re gettin’ that impression of him from,” Maebh replied hesitantly, nervous to even consider the possibility. “I doubt he loves me.”

“If you truly believe that then maybe you’re as clueless as he is.”

“_Hey—!”_

“I’m only teasin’ you.” She paused with a small smile. “Look, you ain’t got nothin’ to feel guilty ’bout, alright? John was the one sleepin’ with two women without a care in the world. I do appreciate you bein’ honest with me.”

“I _am_ sorry, y’know.”

“You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry about. With him gone, my only concern is my son.”

Before Maebh could give a response, she heard her name being called. They both looked across camp to see Arthur waving at her. “You ready to leave in ten minutes?”

She gave him a reluctant thumbs up then turned back to Abigail. “I was hopin’ to talk to you a bit more, but I guess we’re headin’ out soon.”

“How ’bout me and you talk more about it tonight when I’ve put Jack down? I know you’ve got to go rob that stagecoach soon so it’ll give us more time to chat and you can tell me everythin’ — all about John and Arthur. Just me and you. How does that sound?”

Surprised by the gesture, Maebh agreed with enthusiasm and was even more relieved when Abigail leaned over to give her a firm hug. With a small weight lifted from her shoulders, it meant that now going off and focusing on a robbery was more manageable. She felt bad for assuming that Abigail wouldn’t give her the time of day when she had only ever proved to be a blunt but good person. At least she had their chat to look forward to later where they could vent about their displeasure with John Marston.

Arthur seemed to notice her chipper attitude in the few hours it took them to reach the trail outside Silver Springs. Javier seemed to agree with him as they waited at their designated robbery spot. Considering Arthur was in charge, he kept an eye on the time.

“You seem better today,” he noted as they hid in the dried shrubs, horses hitched nearby as they waited down the clock. “It’s good to see.”

Maebh could admit — at least to herself — that his concern made her feel pretty good. “I am feelin’ a little bit better about everythin’ now that you mention it.”

“That’s good,” he replied with a smile. “Sorry I had to interrupt you and Miss Roberts earlier. Unfortunately we couldn’t wait around with the stagecoach comin’ through.”

She waved off his apology. “You’ve nothin’ to be sorry for, Arthur. Myself and Abigail are goin’ t’be hangin’ out later this evenin’ anyway once we get back.”

Javier smirked. “Are you two going to vent about John?”

“You know it.”

Arthur agreed as he checked his watch again. “Y’know, I’d feel more bad about that sonuvabitch if complainin’ wasn’t so goddamn therapeutic.”

“Did Dutch send a letter to Colm about this, by the way?” Maebh asked upon remembering the importance of it.

“Yeah, he sent off a letter last month but he didn’t seem overly happy ’bout it. I think he’s gettin’ a little sick of constantly tellin’ Colm what we’re up to even if they do the same with us. I think it’s startin’ to wear thin with him. Either way, that coach should be passin’ through any minute now, so make sure you got your guns ready and cover your faces. We all familiar with the plan?”

Javier nodded as he pulled up his bandana to hide his identity. “First, we take out the guards from a distance, then you and I keep our guns on the driver while Maebh goes about robbing the people inside.”

“Exactly. And if my ears ain’t lyin’ to me, I think I hear ’em comin’.”

Maebh crouched down in their hiding spot as the familiar sounds of horse hooves and coach wheels drew closer and closer. As the caravan came into view, it appeared to be guarded by only two men on horseback. They waited on Arthur’s signal before steadying their rifles and firing at the guards, downing them without too much effort. The horses were instantly spooked, galloping off down the road while the driver of the caravan looked around in a daze.

“Hold it right there, mister!” Arthur commanded as the three of them leapt from the bushes. They stood before the stagecoach forcing the driver to a halt as they aimed their guns at him. “This is a robbery!”

“Oh, Christ!” the driver panicked, reigns shaking in his hands. “Please don’t kill me! I’m only a driver! I got a family—!”

Maebh couldn’t help but eye Arthur as he channelled his terrifying outlaw exterior. “We ain’t gonna kill ya, you fool! Relax before you send your damn passengers into a panic! We ain’t here to hurt them — just to steal whatever valuables they got. We’ll keep our guns on your while our lady friend here goes to the coach. If I see you reachin’ for the rifle hidden under your seat, I won’t hesitate in pumpin’ you full’a lead, is that clear?” When the driver only nodded, Arthur began to shout. “I said _is that clear?”_

“Yes, yes! Just please don’t shoot—!”

“Then don’t give me a reason to!”

When Arthur gave her a nod, Maebh holstered her gun to pull a sack from her satchel. Keeping a weary eye on the petrified driver, she approached the door of the stagecoach. She forced it open, allowing it to violently swing back and hopefully make those rich men inside more willing to empty their pockets.

“Alright, fellas,” she began in an impatient tone. “This is a robbery, so I want all your valuables in the—”

She stopped dead in her tracks as she finally laid eyes on the passengers. Inside were three terrified women, clutching five children between them. Maebh couldn’t even finish her commands, staring in disbelief at one mother who had her arms wrapped around her two young children — a boy and a girl, no more than six or seven years old. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the little brother and sister, who stared back at her with genuine terror. They clung to their mother as she offered them whatever comfort she could.

“We’ll give you any valuables you want,” one of the other women said in a shaky voice. “Just please don’t hurt us, that’s all we ask!”

Maebh blinked, unable to get her thoughts straight. They were very clearly wealthy as the crooked lawman had promised, but she wasn’t expecting to deal with women and children. Her eyes kept flickering back to the siblings who had now started to cry while their mother desperately shushed them as if their tears might cause Maebh to lash out. All she could see was William when he was a little boy while the girl reminded her of her younger self. She could guess that all the blood had visibly drained from her face.

“What’s the problem back there?” she heard Arthur call impatiently.

“C’mere for a sec,” she replied. “You need to see this.”

Letting Javier remain with the driver, Arthur was by her side in a flash. As he released what exactly had caused her to hesitate, she saw the anger vanish from his eyes. “Awh, Jesus.”

“Did you know they were women and children?” she asked him, not trying to sound accusatory.

The very thought made Arthur’s brow furrow. “I knew the same as you. I was expectin’ some rich business men or somethin’. Not _kids_.”

“What do we do? I don’t feel good about this. I know they’re rich but it isn’t right.”

“I know,” he assured her, placing a large hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

Whether he realised what exactly she was thinking or if he was battling his own demons as he laid his eyes on the passengers, Maebh was relieved either way that he wasn’t about to force her to go through with this robbery.

“I can’t do this,” she said, meeting his eyes to try convey her struggle. “Not with the kids there.”

“I won’t make you,” he answered, as if the very notion was horrifying to him. “It hits too close to home with me too, sweetheart.” He then turned to the passengers and put one hand on the door. “This was a mistake, folks. Y’all continue on with the rest of your journey.”

Without waiting for a reply, he swung the door shut and guided her back around to the front of the stage where Javier stood waiting.

The young man still had his gun trained on the driver. “Well?”

“It’s full’a women and children,” Arthur explained grimly. “Which is not what we was expectin’.”

Their friend understood immediately, his whole demeanour shifting with this new information. “Oh. That explains the hold up.”

“Get outta here, mister,” Arthur called out to the driver. “Bring these people where they need to go before I change my mind.”

With shaking hands and a small whimper of appreciation, the driver urged the draft horses forward and lead the stagecoach down the trail. Maebh sat heavily on the side of the dusty road. She breathed harshly beneath her bandana, the heat of the sun causing her forehead to perspire. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the image of those terrified children out of her head.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked, squatting down next to her.

She nodded stubbornly, unwilling to voice her concerns to him while he was probably trying to wipe the thought of his own son from his mind. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“We probably shouldn’t stay around here for too long,” Javier suggested. “They’ll call the next lawman they see and we still killed those guards.”

“He’s right, Maebh. Are you alright to get goin’?”

Knowing that heading back to camp now was their best bet, she didn’t argue despite how woozy she felt and how shallow her breathing was. Sat in her saddle once more, she petted Dullahan’s neck, trying to ground herself in easing the mare to the best of her abilities. Arthur seemed to notice, keeping Boadicea close by her side the entire ride back to camp. Upon realising that he might be struggling in a similar way, she plucked up enough courage to ask whether he was alright or not, but received a calm enough response. It seemed that while she wasn’t eager about expressing her feelings on the matter, neither was he, visible hesitance making the air between them thick. Having Javier there was a welcome addition as he managed to keep the conversation level and distracting on the journey home, assuring them that they made the right choice. Though he was clearly in agreement with letting the coach go, he could probably read their situations well enough to know that seeing those kids had given them both a harsh realisation of what came with their job. Maebh had no idea how she hadn’t managed to realise it before. 

But now she couldn’t get the image of those children out of her head. The memory blurred into an unsettling image of herself and her own brother, wrapped in the arms of their mother as they stared down the barrel of a gun and feared for their lives.


	30. Don't Rock the Boat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maebh deals with the repercussions of the attempted robbery and starts to worry about her life choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howiyas! Hope everyone is doing well. I've got another chapter for you's and I'm really hoping you enjoy this one. I just wanted to say thank you again to everyone reading along with story. I really do appreciate all the comments and kudos and just the fact people are reading this story and enjoying themselves. As Rob Wiethoff would say, "that's so cool!" We've got roughly another twenty chapters (maybe a lil less) to go, so hopefully you's stick around for the rest. 
> 
> Anyway I'm rambling heh. Sorry if there's any spelling mistakes in here that I missed. Hope you's enjoy another instalment :)
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Yesterday Was Hard On All Of Us” — Fink, “Snuff” — Slipknot, “Fallen Sun” — Timberwolf

In the centre of the desert road was the stagecoach, void of drivers, horses, and guards.

Maebh approached it with her mother’s pistol in hand, its barrel permanently fixed on the closed door. Around her, the desert was dark, dirt and sand only illuminated by the cover of stars that flickered above, moving through the sky as though the earth was turning at an abnormal speed. The only noise was the sound of howling wind plowing through the terrain, carrying with it debris that blew across the road. Her footsteps were silent on the earth, but she knew she was alone — there was no Arthur and no Javier, just her and whoever lay inside that stagecoach.

In the darkness she trudged on, determined to rob those inside. She moved forwards despite any hesitance and felt as though she was watching herself in some out-of-body experience, always two steps behind and unable to change her own mind.

Her hand met the door’s handle, as cold as ice on her skin. It burned her palm and fingers but it didn’t stop her from wrenching it open with inhuman strength. Inside, the three women and five children met her eyes, terrified beyond measure, screaming for mercy. The children pleaded, tears staining their cheeks as their mothers tossed their jewellery at her like some sort of desperate bargain. Apparently, it mattered little to her. Maebh could only watch as she emptied the barrel of the gun into the passengers.

The noise was deafening and the sight of blood covering their expensive clothes was jarring. The pistol shook in her firm grasp, unloading unlimited bullets into the women and children, never needing to be reloaded, just firing and firing until their screams grew so loud that she could feel piercing pain in her ears.

With a sharp jolt, Maebh opened her eyes.

She took in interior of her tent. Her chest rose and fell unevenly, breaths laboured and brow wet with perspiration. Inside her chest, her heart thumped despite the realisation that it was simply a nightmare. Slowly, the shock began to ease, breathing calming as she turned her head to see William sleeping peacefully on his bedroll. His company usually brought her enough comfort to fall back asleep without hassle, but the anxiety induced by her dream didn’t wane. She slung an arm across her eyes, hiding in the crook of her own elbow as she tried to banish the unnerving images from resurfacing in the darkness. Unwilling to wake up her brother to hear some comforting words, she got up for some fresh air. The camp was silent, the only other movement belonging to Davey as he patrolled the area. It seemed like no one had a care in the world right now bar her. Sitting alone by the campfire as she attempted to banish all thoughts of the stagecoach from her mind, it became apparent that someone else was also awake.

“Mind if I sit?”

Maebh looked up to see Annabelle standing there with a kind smile.

“Sure,” she replied. “Don’t mind me.”

“Can’t sleep?” Annabelle asked as she bypassed the chair entirely and sat down on the ground next to her.

“Apparently not.”

Annabelle hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, me neither.”

Maebh eyed her curiously. “What’s keepin’ you up then?”

“Awh, those O’Driscolls. Dutch is gettin’ quite antsy about them and I guess I don’t like seein’ him worry so much. It makes _me_ worry.”

“That’s understandable,” Maebh agreed, rubbing her sleepy eyes as they focused on the light of the fire. “What, is he just sick of dealin’ with them?”

“Pretty much. They can be pretty disrespectful in those letters and that Matthew feller is demandin’ as hell. They seem to be goin’ after bigger takes too, killin’ without much thought if it means they get the money in the end. Rich or poor — it means no difference to them, not like how we operate. I’m not exactly sure whether Dutch is bothered by their morals or that fact that they’re so productive.”

Maebh blinked, letting her words settle for a moment before realising what she was saying. “Surely he’s bothered by their morals, right? I mean, we don’t do what _they_ do.”

“It’s hard to tell with that man sometimes,” Annabelle admitted with a weary expression. “But maybe you’re right. What has _you_ still awake at this hour anyway? I’d take a guess that it has somethin’ to do with that stagecoach from earlier today. Arthur told me about it when you three got back.”

Since coming back from their failed job, the only people Maebh had spoken to were Abigail and William. As promised, she and Abigail spent the evening together, airing everything out about their respective situations with John. It certainly helped to put things into perspective and was also refreshing to hear someone else — other than her brother — agree that John had made a holy show out of himself. Though even her company couldn’t banish the nagging memory of those children from the back of her mind. 

With little else to do, Maebh decided that maybe talking to Annabelle wasn’t the worst thing. “Yeah, it might have somethin’ to do with that stage.”

The older woman considered her words for a moment before saying. “Given Arthur’s history, I can understand why he was so perturbed by the encounter, so I would imagine that you had similar reasons.”

“That’s certainly one way to put it. Let’s just say that William and I didn’t have the best childhood, so I wasn’t ready to see those kids. All I could see were me and him.”

“I would say that’s a fairly normal reaction, Miss Hennigan,” Annabelle replied. “I’d also say there isn’t any shame in it.”

“But our situation isn’t _normal_. We’ve all done things or had things done to us that caused us to end up in this life. Without gettin’ into it, I’m the reason why William and I are outlaws, runnin’ from the law and tryin’ to get by.” Maebh held up one hand with her index finger pointed upwards, the other fingers and thumb folded into her palm. “So that’s one life I’ve changed forever, probably for the worse by normal standards. I didn’t want those kids on that stagecoach to be three more examples.”

“Well, thankfully they weren’t. Because you’re not some thoughtless O’Driscoll killin’ whoever looks at you wrong. You’ve got more sense than that — we’ve _all_ got more sense.”

“There was a time when I never even considered killin’ full stop,” Maebh countered. “Mind you, I was very young, but still. Now I kill. How do I know in a few years we won’t become like those bleedin’ O’Driscoll bastards?”

Annabelle didn’t seem feigned by her mildly insulting doubt. Somehow she thought that if she was speaking to Dutch, her words wouldn’t be so calmly received. “Look at who you’re surrounded by. This doesn’t run like Colm’s gang. No one here is expendable and Dutch has both Hosea and Arthur by his side whenever decisions need to be made. We’re not those kinda guys.”

“You said it yourself that you’re wonderin’ what Dutch is bothered by with regards the O’Driscolls.”

“Yes, but I never thought it was because he was jealous of their willingness to murder innocents!”

Maebh shrugged. “A fair point… It just has me thinkin’ — how many kids have I not counted? I’ve killed quite a few people, surely some of them had families of our own.”

“I don’t mean to rain on your parade,” she began with a sad smile. “But if this bothers you quite a bit, you might be in the wrong line of work.”

“It’s not like there’s much else I can do,” Maebh explained. “This is basically all I know.”

Annabelle smirked. “Oh c’mon. That’s just not true. You two have farmin’ experience right? Not to mention all of your creative pastimes. I think you might be sellin’ yourself too short.”

“Maybe, but those kinda dreams seem a bit unrealistic to me.” With a sigh, she brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Is it not a bit dodgy to be encouragin’ me to leave given what happened last month?”

“Look, leavin’ because you don’t want to be a father is one thing, but leavin’ because you want a safer life for you and your brother? I couldn’t exactly judge you for that, now could I? Plus, I’m not _encouragin’_ you to leave. I’d love if you stayed, but I’m just sayin’ that you aren’t totally out of options. Wantin’ some peace and quiet and normalcy when you haven’t gotten a chance to experience it properly seems fair to me. When you think about it, I lived a ‘normal’ life before I joined the gang, so I don’t think it’s entirely unreasonable for you to do it in the reverse order. With the way the world is goin’, I doubt this way of life will be sustainable forever. But I do know that Dutch always has a plan and he’d rather we settle down as farmers or labourers instead of dyin’ by the bullet.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Maebh concluded, thinking back to how well she had known Dutch for years. She doubted he would ever allow such a thing to happen to them. The thought of them all eventually retiring as outlaws on some farm was surprisingly wholesome despite lacking in realism. “I promise I’m not about to run off like Marston. I suppose I’m just bent outta shape ’bout those kids, that’s all.”

“Then you can sleep well in the knowledge that those kids and their mothers won’t be counted because you’re better than that. Just give yourself some time and the shock will pass. I’m always around if you want to talk about it.”

“Thanks, Annabelle. I appreciate that, really. I guess it’s just botherin’ me ’cause one of the kids really reminded me of William, y’know? It’s hard to get that thought out of my mind.” 

“You love your brother. I don’t think you’d ever do wrong by him, especially considerin’ how you both seem to put the other first. Worryin’ about him in this life isn’t exactly irrational. But you two will be okay. The best thing you can do right now is try get some sleep.”

Maebh cast her eyes over her. “What about you? We can chat about your feelin’s for Dutch if you’d like?”

Annabelle shook her head. “Another time, maybe. I think I need to mull it over before I can even process how I feel about it all. Maybe we can save that for another late night discussion?”

“I’d like that,” Maebh agreed as she pushed herself to her feet. “Thanks for listenin’ to my ramblin’s.”

Annabelle offered her a warm smile as Maebh returned to her tent. Thankfully, William remained in a deep sleep, undisturbed by her movement. With Annabelle’s advice floating through her mind, she tried her best to fall into a restless sleep.

* * *

The following morning, Maebh hadn’t slept all that well, but thankfully no more nightmares plagued her head. William was already up having been called by Dutch to talk about some work with Hosea. Apparently there was a rich man up in Reno that the latter considered to be a prime target for scamming. She didn’t hear too many details before he left to go formulate some sort of plan, though it was early days yet.

She remained in her tent, hesitant to leave for breakfast just yet. Instead, she pondered over the writings in her journal. Her thoughts were still too muddled for her to write any stories, but she could go back over previously written paragraphs and make small changes to improve her narrative. 

Someone clearing their throat cut through her thoughts and she raised her head to find Arthur standing at the entrance of her tent. “Mornin’.”

“Mornin’, yourself,” Maebh replied, unable to stop smiling at the sight of him.

“I figured you might like a good cup of coffee,” he said, raising the two cups he held in his hands. “If you haven’t had any yet. Maybe even take a walk with me ’round camp?”

“Sure,” she agreed, almost surprised by his suggestion as she stood up and accepted one of the cups. “I’ll join you for a ramble.”

He offered her his arm and she tried to seem calm as she accepted the gesture, letting her hand lightly rest on his bicep. He led her slowly around as they sipped on their coffee, the liquid waring her insides despite the heat of the day already. It was that nice time of day when some of camp was still asleep and people were only beginning to organise themselves before getting to any tasks they had. Miss Grimshaw and Annabelle were up cleaning tables while the other ladies got ready, Uncle was passed out against Pearson’s wagon, and Copper was casually walking alongside Maebh and Arthur, sniffing curiously at the ground as they went.

“So, how’re you doin’?” Arthur asked after a comfortable silence. “I figured you might be a little disheartened after yesterday.”

She regarded him carefully, admiring the sight of him without his signature hat. It gave her a chance to get see his eyes without its brim being in the way. “You’re not wrong there. I’d say that’s an accurate description of how I feel.”

He looked down at his boots and nodded. “Yeah, I’d say I feel the same. I just wanted to let you know that, well, you ain’t alone in this. Given what we’ve been through, it ain’t a surprise we’d be put off by it. But we made the right decision in lettin’ it go, I think.”

“I don’t disagree with you on that. In fact, I don’t wonder whether we made the right decision to let it go, I just feel guilty for pointin’ my gun at those women and kids inside.”

“I know,” he pacified her, tone soft despite the roughness of his voice. “I do too. But at least we didn’t take it any further than that. I spoke to Dutch about it and he was pretty understandin’. He said we can always make more money on a different job. Apparently, he’s gonna look into some bigger takes.”

“_Bigger?”_ Maebh repeated with slight apprehension. She tried to refrain from clutching at his arm any tighter.

“Yeah, like bigger banks than we usually hit, bigger stages, homesteads. Stuff like that, I’d imagine. The gang is larger than it’s ever been right now and even if we’ve lost Marston, we still have a great set of guns to carry out these jobs. As well as great pickpockets and scammers. Don’t worry about Dutch’s ambitions — we can manage ’em.”

Maebh did her best to wipe away whatever trepidation she had, forcefully smiling as she sipped from her coffee. “Yeah, of course. I wouldn’t doubt any of you’s even with bigger jobs to do.”

He grinned at her reaction, gulping the last of his coffee down before speaking. “Do you think you’d like to come into town with me? I haven’t eaten yet and I figured you might not have either. I found a spot in Reno that serves some tasty beef stew — far less salty than what you might get here.”

Time away from camp with Arthur while also having an opportunity to distract herself from her continuous inner turmoil?

“I’d love to,” she replied without hesitation and swiftly finished her coffee. “Lead the way.”

While Arthur went to go ready the horses, Maebh stuck her head into Dutch’s tent to let William know where she was off to. When she joined Arthur again, he was casually stroking Dullahan’s mane with a gentle hand.

“You’ve been takin’ good care o’this horse,” he noted, admiring her as he climbed into his own saddle. “She’s a fine animal.”

Maebh agreed, patting the mare’s neck as she sat atop her. “She’s done a pretty good job lookin’ after me, that’s for sure. I had to do the same back. I don’t think I would’ve made it out of several scrapes without her.”

“I know how you feel.” He lead them up the trail, talking to Boadicea as they went. “You’ve done the same for me, haven’t you, girl? That’s right.”

The ride to Reno was filled with pleasant conversation and Maebh was thankful for it. Continuous distraction from her curious thoughts was exactly what she needed, and the fact it was with Arthur was a bonus. They had started to spend more and more time together since John left, the two of them seeing an opportunity to both vent and ignore his very existence. William had expressed Arthur’s desire to speak to her before, so she took it into her own hands instead of waiting for his cautious approach. That seemed to do the job, because now he seemed to have little issue with coming to her.

Despite being a home to roughly four thousand inhabitants, Maebh was fond of visiting Reno. It had a strikingly different feel to many of the other cities she had visited further east, but never tired of wandering its streets. The Gold Rush had brought with it so many eager emigrants seeking their fortune, most of which settled in Reno, so it seemed like a population with a healthy mix of different personalities and backgrounds. That and the food was something that always had her mouth watering. William was more intrigued with its theatres and nightlife, though that was no surprise. She was more than happy to attend shows with him on a semi-regular basis.

“So where exactly is this place?” Maebh asked as Arthur lead her along a street, the horses’ hooves clip-clopping as they went.

“Just up the top of this main street here,” he replied, pointing forwards. “Ain’t far.”

Upon reaching their destination, they hitched their horses outside. Arthur offering Maebh a hand as she stepped down to the ground. She almost slapped herself for how much her cheeks flushed at his gesture.

“It, eh, looks nice,” she said in some desperate attempt to distract him. “The saloon, I mean.”

He looked between her and the building’s façade. “Right, yeah. It does, don’t it? I promise it’s even decent inside.”

Maebh took his arm again, wrapping lightly around it and resting her hand on his bicep. The action seemed so familiar to her now that it was more of a knee-jerk reaction than anything else. Noticing the look of surprise he gave her, she moved to let him go. “Sorry, I just—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he cut her off, pulling his arm closer in to keep her hand fixed in its position. “It’s alright. I don’t mind you holdin’ on to me, Miss Hennigan. What man wouldn’t like a lovely lady on his arm?”

Jesus, how was it that Arthur could be surprisingly smooth when he wanted to be? Was he even trying to be smooth, or was she just weak at the sight of him? Most likely the latter… She had been about to leave her hand exactly where it was at his request, even as they seemed to stare at each other in silence. How this man managed to make her so weak at the knees for all these years was beyond her. As a matter of fact, how any women in his life had _willingly_ left him seemed like pure madness. When he was looking at her like _this_.

If she had been more foolish and daring, perhaps she would have leaned in and closed the distance between them sooner. If the moment hadn’t been bluntly interrupted by the calling of a nearby newspaper vendor.

“Murder by the Truckee River! Women and children massacred in stagecoach robbery! Read all about it in the Reno Gazette for only twenty five cents!”

She felt her smile fall before she saw Arthur’s do the same. She turned around in his hold, spotting the boy standing on a street corner, newspaper in hand. He rambled on in a disinterested voice. “Work believed to be that of notorious gang! Read the full story for only twenty five cents.”

Her heart was thumping and her body moved of its own accord. She approached the vendor, ignoring Arthur’s distant calls of her name as he followed after her. With shaking hands, she all put shoved twenty five cents into the boy’s sweaty palm and grabbed her newspaper. The headline was as clear as day.

**RENO EVENING GAZETTE.**

RENO, NEVADA, MONDAY, JULY 13, 1896

WOMEN AND CHILDREN SLAUGHTERED BY INFAMOUS OUTLAWS

"A stagecoach travelling from Yerington to Reno was intercepted and its passengers and driver murdered on Sunday afternoon. The passengers — all of whom were women and children as young as six years old — were robbed and killed not far from the Truckee River. Lawmen later found the stagecoach abandoned on the roadside with the victims strewn about the road when a traveller informed the local sheriff. Based on the violent attack, it’s believed that the robbery was carried out by the O’Driscoll Gang, a group of outlaws led by the notorious Colm and Eóghan O’Driscoll, known for their visceral attacks on innocent travellers. They’ve been connected with a number of attacks and robberies in Nevada in recent months, leaving little doubt as to who may have carried out this theft.

"More confusing for lawmen was the discovery of two hired guns tasked with protecting the stagecoach. Their lifeless bodies were found on the trail not far from Silver Springs, leading investigators to believe that they were killed and the stagecoach continued on its journey.

"The local sheriff swore to bring the O’Driscoll Gang to justice but refused to give further comment on the unsettling details of the attack."

Maebh read the entry with furious hast, ignoring how Arthur was trying to reign her back in, calm her down, prevent her from losing herself in this new information. It seemed that the vendor’s words were enough for him, but she needed to know the sordid details of whatever the hell had happened on that trail.

“Fuckin’ O’Driscolls,” she said under her breath as she finished reading. “It was those fuckin’ O’Driscolls.”

Arthur sensed the meltdown, he knew exactly what was coming. “Maebh, I need you to stay with me, okay?”

His words did little. The knowledge of what happened to those women and children had already sent her into a panic. “They’re all dead, Arthur. They’re all fuckin’ _dead_—”

He held up his hands, slowly approaching her as she wandered to the front of a nearby building. “I heard but I don’t want you to start panickin’.”

She rested her back against its brick front, lungs inhaling in short, quick breaths. She was insistent even in her unstable state. “But we killed those guards! Had we not killed them, maybe those kids would’ve survived.”

Arthur’s expression was pleading as she approached her slowly, trying not to spook her like last time. “We don’t know that for certain. Ain’t nothin’ we could’a done.”

“_Nothing?”_ Maebh repeated, tears now spilling from her eyes. “Maybe we shouldn’t’ve told Matthew ’bout it in the first place! They knew about that stage ’cause of us! Those kids are dead ’cause—”

“It ain’t our fault,” he insisted, standing in front of her with a desperate look on his face. “We let them go ’cause we didn’t wanna hurt them. We can’t blame ourselves.”

Next thing she knew, his rough hand was gently wiping tears from her cheeks, holding her face so delicately, almost as if she might break if he didn’t. She lost it, the softness of his movement both comforting and somehow a reminder that she didn’t deserve it. What she deserved was whatever nightmares this massacre was sure to conjure up.

She didn’t know who was the first to move, but the next thing she knew, she was wrapped up in Arthur’s arms, face buried in his chest as he held her tight.

His voice was so gentle, soothing as he murmured right next to her ear. “I know, sweetheart. I got you. I got you.”

His tight hold was the only thing to help control her sobbing, passersby probably giving them bemused looks as he consoled her. Maebh didn’t care, not when the realisation of what happened to those women and children was plaguing her mind like some sort of just punishment. Annabelle’s encouraging words seemed to vanish the more she read that article. Even Arthur’s reassurances weren’t enough to make her think otherwise.

Things seemed well and truly fucked.

* * *

** _20th July, 1896, outside Reno, Nevada_ **

_I didn’t sleep a wink last night. Instead, I was haunted by that persistent nightmare._

_This time, I’m not the one robbing the stagecoach. Instead, I’m one of the kids inside._

_I’m clinging to our mam, William on her other side as the door of the stagecoach is ripped open. Faceless O’Driscolls spray the interior with endless bullets, each one entering my body with a jolt of pain. I’m never killed first — I always have to see my family die, William crying out in fear until my eardrums burst._

_It’s always something like that, or some sort of variation. None of which are worth discussing. All I can say is that a dread sleep and never seem to get any of it anyway_

* * *

** _31st July, 1896, outside Reno, Nevada_ **

_William has noticed that something is up with me. Ever since the news of the stagecoach robbery, he’s been fairly skittish around me, encouraging me to talk about my feelings. This time however, I’ve no desire to do so. I don’t want to think about how I keep picturing him inside that stage, that sometimes it’s both of us inside._

_I didn’t want to discuss how how last night the door of the stagecoach opened and our own friends were pointing the guns before unloading the rounds into us. Sometimes it’s Dutch, sometimes it’s Arthur, sometimes it’s even John, eyes feral and unrelenting in his hatred as he pulls the trigger._

_I haven’t slept properly in weeks and I’m starting to think that I deserve it. Sometimes I find myself wondering if I can even do this anymore, _ _any of it__. Other days I feel guilty for thinking that maybe John had the right idea in leaving. I can’t justify his reasons at all, _ <strike> _but I can’t help but find myself pondering whether it’s possible for me to do the same._ </strike>

_I shouldn’t be saying stuff like that. Knock it off, Maebh, and cop on!_

* * *

** _9th August, 1896, outside Reno, Nevada_ **

_With my sleeping pattern all over the shop, I’ve found myself with a lot of time alone at night My thoughts are almost never-ending in their flow, constantly wondering what the hell I’m doing with my life. It’s hard to not let these thoughts get ahead of me when they’re all I have. Arthur has tried to talk to me, encouraged me to tell him how I’m feeling, but I’ve consistently shrugged off his concerns and insisted that I’m fine. I doubt he believes me. William is the same, trying his best to get words out of me that are more then just “I’m grand, don’t mind me”._

_I’m starting to wonder whether I’ve inadvertently made another wrong decision somewhere along the line. Mostly a wrong decision for William’s sake. The first was choosing to kill those Pinkertons and ensuring that we’d probably be run out of Wisconsin and chased across every state in this bloody country. Maybe deciding to join a gang was just another wrong decision. Maybe if we’d lay low, changed our names, and figured out some way to become farm workers or _ _something,_ _ things would be different. Anything that doesn’t put either of us in danger. But maybe I had already crossed that line when I killed those agents. Maybe there’s no going back from here._

* * *

** _15th August, 1896, outside Reno, Nevada_ **

_I’ve been thinking — rather guiltily — that maybe I was selfish to bring William into this life. He’d follow me anywhere, I know he would, and I’d do the same for him. But maybe I felt responsible as the older sibling to make those harder choices that would influence a lot about our lives._

_Was joining a gang the right choice? Am I putting him in more danger by being involved in this life? What if one day he ends up like those kids in that stage, riddled with bullets and left for dead?What if we end up like those O’Driscolls, killing thoughtlessly and relentlessly? Was getting him involved in this life reckless? I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him, as dramatic as that sounds, it’s true._

_My head feels melted, especially with those constant thought of whether I should be putting his safety first. I can’t tell whether it would be selfish to stay in the gang or selfish to drag him out of it. God, the more I think about what John did, the more appealing it seems. But in this case, I would be leaving with my family, not abandoning them because of my own desires. The question is, would William even agree to it if I did want us to leave? Maybe he _ _would__given his loyalty to me. After all, he is all I have._

_Though leaving brings with it risks and the inevitable judgement of those in the gang. I saw the volatile reaction when Marston left so I can’t imagine it’ll be any different if we were to leave in search of greener pastures. Annabelle said should wouldn’t judge me, but I worry about how the others would react — Dutch, Hosea, Abigail, and Arthur? Oh God, Arthur. Why does the thought of leaving him make me feel ill? Is whatever love I feel for him worth risking William’s safety? Well, it’s unrequited, so it’s hardly much now is it? I’ll just become another fallen member like John, gone and bitterly forgotten. I couldn’t talk to any of them about it, definitely not. They’ll only convince me to stay but surely William is better off away from this all?_

_Christ, how did things become so messy?_

* * *

** _20th August, 1896, outside Reno, Nevada_ **

_I’ve been sitting on this for weeks and I feel like I’ve finally made a decision._

_I’ve put William through enough stress, enough danger. Maybe time away from the gang and the life of an outlaw would be better for him. Maybe I can repair the damage I’ve already done. If we leave and head a little ways east towards Utah or Colorado, maybe we can start our lives over, work on a ranch, and be forgotten about like every other normal person trying to get by. I’ve refused to let myself dwell on Arthur or any of my other friends. It’ll only make leaving harder._

_William is currently east of Reno with Hosea, following up on that con job they’ve been working on for over a month. It got me thinking, if I was to use the gang’s boat to row up Steamboat Creek, it would leave me not too far from where they’re staying. I could travel on foot then. Hosea will be a lot less likely to argue with my choice and myself and William can easily ride on Dantès further east and out of Nevada. I doubt he’ll be happy about having to leave Banquo behind — though and I’m not exactly eager to leave Dullahan either — but I’ve written a note to leave in Arthur’s tent while he’s sleeping, quickly explaining my decision while asking him to look after that lovely mare for me. If I was to leave on Dullahan, I’m sure they would try to track me just like they did with Marston and this way, going in the boat will be quieter and allow me to avoid whoever is on guard duty tonight. Not only that, but I’ll have a head start on them too. _

_Part of me thinks it’s crazy and the other part of me is just desperate to leave. I guess I’ll find out whether I made the right choice or not._

* * *

Maebh peered out into the night. The camp was sleeping peacefully on that cool summer evening with Sean taking on patrol. That could work in her favour given how he had a tendency to fall asleep on the job. She had a bag packed with necessities and her personally belongings, including basically all of the trinkets in her tent and even her bedroll. She packed another for William and made sure to put everything he held dear inside. Despite that huge part of her that felt guilty for her decision, she still packed the numerous photos she had of the gang members, including shots of her and Arthur, her and John, and especially that group shot with the stagecoach.

When all seemed quiet, she crept out into the night, wrapped up in her coat with the hat Arthur gifted her on her head. She moved slowly, trying to not alert anyone as she tiptoed to Arthur’s tent. He was thankfully fast asleep having been working hard all day as per usual. As quietly as possible, she left the folded note she had written hours earlier on his table, hoping it could at least clarify something for him, though she knew he would most likely hate her for this anyway. She couldn’t even bring herself to cry, knowing she didn’t deserve any self pity when this was all her fault anyway.

She hurried to the shoreline of the lake, having left the boat a little ways from camp earlier that afternoon so that she could easily push it out into the water and climb inside. With her and her brother’s bags inside, she hauled herself into the boat, managing to make little noise as it eased itself through the water. With the oars in hand, she cast one last long look at the sleeping camp before turning her attention northwards and rowing towards the creek. 

* * *

Arthur awoke to the familiar sound of Reverend Swanson collapsing outside his tent and drunkenly singing a song. With an impatient groan he forced himself up, frowning at the darkness and the knowledge that his peaceful sleep had been interrupted.

“Get the hell into bed, Reverend,” he growled, hoisting the man to his feet and helping to move him to his tent. “You _are_ a sorry sight.”

As he walked unsteadily back to his own tent he rubbed his eyes in an effort to clear sleep from his vision. Before he could sit down again, he noticed a folded piece of paper with his name on it left on top of his table. With a furrowed brow he picked it up and cast his eyes around the camp curiously. Her opened it and immediately recognised Maebh’s handwriting.

_Arthur, _

_No matter how hard I seem to try, I can’t shake the guilt and shame I feel for what happened to those women and children by the Truckee River. For weeks I’ve been plagued with thoughts wondering when such a thing will take William from me and whether I’ve made yet another wrong decision in joining a gang. I seem to want to set my brother up for a harsh life and I’m willing to do whatever I can to change that for him. I took the gang’s boat and left Dullahan and Banquo behind. It would mean a lot to me if you could look after them for me, especially my mare. I know she’s fond of you, so there’s no better man for the job._

_I’m sorry I couldn’t bring myself to tell you in person, but I guess I’m more cowardly than I thought. I know that it doesn’t seem like it now, but I really do care about you and wish you the best in life._

_All my love,_

_Maebh x_

Arthur reread the note another time with as much speed as he could manage. He threw it down and rushed to the Hennigans’ tent to find it empty and all of their things gone.

“Goddamnit,” he said under his breath and hurried back to his cot. “_Goddamnit!”_

With shaking hands, he reefed on a pair of pants over his union suit and shoved his feet into his boots. With a brief moment of clarity, he grabbed his journal from his satchel and then focused on the task at hand. He sprinted out of camp, not exactly thinking too far ahead as he looked along the shoreline and tried to spot the boat. He had no idea how long ago she had left so she could have gone anywhere at this stage, though his bet was probably northwards towards Reno considering William was still there. He had been about to turn around and fetch Boadicea when he managed to spot a boat in the distant darkness. Without any hesitation, he began to sprint up the shoreline of Washoe Lake, right out of the camp’s boundary line.

He was nearer to the top of the lake when he managed to catch up with her. His lungs were burning and his throat dry with the exertion. He cursed himself for not just grabbing his damn horse but as he managed to spot Maebh in the moonlight, he didn’t care anymore.

“_Maebh!”_

She whipped around in the boat and called back as she spotted him on the shoreline. “_Arthur?”_

“What the hell are you doin’?” he demanded, getting as close as he could to the water.

“I need’ta leave,” she replied, somewhat weakly as she stopped rowing. “I’m goin’ to get my brother!”

“Like hell you are! You can’t just leave us like this!”

“You wouldn’t get it, alright? Just go back to camp, for God sake.”

Why the hell had he not opened his mouth sooner? Why the hell had he been so damn afraid to tell her how he felt when he had numerous chances? Now she was quite literally sailing out of his life before he could do anything about it. He watched her pick up the oars again and made his decision.

“No,” he called back with resound determination. He quickly began to kick his boots off. “I ain’t goin’ back without you.”

He was already wading into the water when she realised what he was doing. “Arthur, what the hell are you at?”

“Stoppin’ you from goin’,” he replied matter-of-factly as he tried not to slip on the muddy ground beneath his bare feet. “That’s what!”

The water soaked his pants and union suit but thankfully wasn’t too deep. It reached just above his waist as he slogged through it, holding his journal up to avoid it getting wet. In his hast to reach the boat, he nearly fell numerous times, trying to find his footing in the dim light of the moon.

She didn’t seem to know what to do, instead halting the boat where it was as she tried to find the words to encourage him to turn around. No, he wasn’t about to do that for what was probably the hundredth time. 

As he reached the boat, he tossed the journal inside before trying to haul himself up. He felt her hands on his back to assist him before he tumbled inside with a heavy thump.

“Christ,” he huffed out, finally getting his breath back upon realising that he had made it. “My back…”

“Are you mad?” she asked him, worried eyes checking him over. “You’re bleedin’ soaked.”

“I ain’t the one runnin’ off in the middle of the night,” he countered, though not unkindly. “You can’t leave—”

She was quick to cut him off. “I have to. I’ve already made such a mess of things. I’ve done enough harm.”

“Will you just listen to me for once?” He grabbed her hand so that he could shove his journal into her palm. He met her confused gaze before speaking with as much sincerity as he could muster despite his absolutely soaked appearance. “I need you to stay.”

There was a lengthy silence between them, but he didn’t shy away from her eyes. Not this time. With his insistence, she opened his journal and stared at the pages. Inside were numerous drawings, some of the various cities and towns they had visited, of animals or flowers seen on their travels. Others consisted of the gang, but most of them were of Maebh alone. She stared at the pages in surprise, studying at the intricate pencil lines he used to try recreate her image. There were some of her fishing, working, sitting by the fire and writing. There were even ones of her in her brother’s company or brushing down Dullahan. He had spent so long trying to master it, trying to refine his skills so that he could do her beauty justice. Even still, no matter what she was doing or what mood she was in, all he could see was a woman that left him breathless. Countless pages filled with drawings of one of his favourite people he’d ever met.

He placed a large and nervous hand on hers, forcing her to meet his eyes again. He reiterated his earlier point despite the uncertain dread he felt having so openly exposed his desires. “I need you to stay, _please_.”

He was going to force himself to ramble, to encourage that she should at least come back to camp and talk to him about whatever thoughts ailed her. Apparently, he didn’t need to.

In a flash she cleared the distance between them and kissed him.

Lost for words, Arthur sat as stiff as a board. He held his breath, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to comprehend what the hell was happening. His friend, Maebh — _Maebh Hennigan_ — was _kissing him!_ His pulse was racing and his mind furiously trying to understand what was happening in the short amount of time he had. He had barely managed to register how soft her lips felt against his before she was pulling back and leaving him trailing after her.

They stared at each other in silence, both of them breathing heavily. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, couldn’t stop admiring how the moonlight shimmered in her wet, green eyes. He could just about see the blushing of her cheeks but imagined that given how hot his face was, he didn’t look much better.

“Sorry,” she blurted out, blinking repeatedly and clearing her throat. “It seemed like a good time to do that.”

He had to physically force himself to speak, both hands awkwardly resting on his thighs. “No need to be sorry. It was uh, definitely a good time.”

She smiled, tearful eyes squinting slightly. “Maybe a bit overdue actually.”

“Maybe,” he agreed before mentally kicking himself for being so embarrassing. He shook his head and nervously took her hands in his. “I really would like for you to stay, y’know. I care about you — quite a lot if you ain’t noticed.”

Her smile seemed to fall a bit at his words. “I’m sorry if that was inappropriate. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anythin’—”

“You ain’t done no such thing,” he assured her, unable to stop himself from smiling like a fool. “I quite liked it.”

“Really?” she asked with visible excitement. “So… did you like it enough to maybe do it again?”

He had to finally avert his gaze, trying hard and failing to not look so goddamn bashful about the whole thing. “I liked it enough to do it many more times, if you want to. But will you please stay? Or at least come back to talk to me about it?”

It didn’t seem like she needed much convincing to do so, and he relished in the feeling of her smaller fingers lightly brushing against his. “Okay, I’ll go back with you.”

Unable to contain his excitement, his softly cupped her face in his hands. “Then excuse me while I do this.”

The last thing he saw before pulling her into a deep kiss was the smile on her lips. Considering he was actually prepared this time, he kissed her like his life depended on it. Any nervous feelings he had over his inexperience in the last few years was forgotten when her arms slipped around his neck and she kissed him back. He tried to keep his touch soft but couldn’t help himself as she returned the same amount of enthusiasm. 

Whatever worries he previously held were washed away in that little boat under the flickering starlight of the desert sky. Whatever fantasies he had simply weren’t enough in comparison to his actual joy when living in the moment. He supposed that she really _did_ leave him well and truly breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took our boah thirty chapters, but he finally did it!  
I DID warn you's that this was the slowest of burns ha  
Just an FYI, if you'd like to leave a comment that's just incoherent screaming I wouldn't be against it and in fact I'd LOVE to hear your thoughts/incoherent screams!


	31. Honour, Amongst Outlaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Maebh discuss their new relationship, and Dutch has big plans for the gang's future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh hello! I'm a day late but I've got a new chapter for you's regardless. I'm back in work, which is awful but I'm only in two days a week which is fine by me ha But I've also got some big commission work (stuff I actually enjoy!) going on that is taking up most of my time. It's a big priority right now, so updates will most likely slow down a lil. It won't be a massive length of time between chapters, but just wanted to let you know that it won't be every Thursday anymore until my commission work is submitted around the 14th of August. 
> 
> But hey, at least you's had THAT chapter before my schedule changed, right? Also can I just say the feedback on that chapter was absolutely insane. I loved reading every single one of your comments. And thank you kindly for 4,000 hits! I can't believe we've reached that number! It doesn't feel like very long ago when we hit 2k. I can't say it enough - thank you for sticking with me!
> 
> Anyway, here's another chapter that I hope you's enjoy! Apologies for any errors I missed - there are probably many ha  
Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Trip Through Your Wires” — U2, “Shrike” — Hozier, “God’s Gonna Cut You Down” — Johnny Cash, “Cocaine and Abel” — Amigo the Devil

** _21st August, 1896, outside Carson City, Nevada_ **

_I can’t believe that all this time I have been a fool, but for completely different reasons than I thought._

_All that time I spent worrying about Maebh and my feelings for her when this whole time she felt the same way. I found her trying to flee camp last night but managed to convince her to come back after she kissed me. I can hardly believe it as I write it down, but it’s true! I can’t believe I spent this much time being jealous of peaches and Marston. Good God, even reading that back is painful. But it doesn’t matter anymore. The main thing is that she returned to camp with me and explained her reasons for wanting to leave. I can’t say that I blame her all that much, but I’m sorely relieved that she agreed to come back with me. I’m not entirely sure where we stand with each other, but she said we can certainly discuss it so that we can understand how we both feel about it._

_What a fool you’ve been, Morgan, the goddamn luckiest fool in this whole country._

* * *

Arthur set down his journal with a content sigh. Copper looked up at him with a wagging tail and a lolling tongue.

“How’re you, boy?” he asked the animal, scratching behind his ear until his leg began to kick against the ground.

_It is a good day, today,_ he thought, surprisingly content for the first time in a while. _A fine day indeed._

Unable to help himself with feeling so eager, he glanced over at Maebh’s tent to see her moving around inside as she readied herself for the day. He approached her cautiously, trying to appear casual with his hands wrapped around his belt buckle. “Mornin’, Miss Hennigan.”

Maebh whipped around in the tent but smiled upon laying eyes on him. “Good mornin’ to you too, Mr. Morgan.”

“Do you, uh—” He aimlessly kicked at the dirt beneath his boots. “Fancy eatin’ your breakfast in my tent with me and Copper this mornin’? I caught some rabbit earlier and cooked it pretty good.”

Her eyes lit up. “It can’t possibly be worse than Pearson’s stew, so I’m in.”

“Don’t worry,” he laughed. “I actually know how to use seasonin’.”

She quickly pulled on her boots before joining him, staying close by his side as they returned to his tent. Arthur, especially in recent years, had very little experience when it came to courting or public displays of affection. He really wanted to figure out her boundaries before doing anything lest he scare her off, but she seemed comfortable to walk by his side at a closer proximity than usual. Them eating together in his tent might raise a few eyebrows but he supposed that people at camp had to eventually find out about… well, _whatever_ they were doing.

Copper was happy to see her, and she him. He received some rubs before he settled down again to chew on a bone Pearson gave him earlier. Arthur invited her to sit next to him on his cot. He already had two cups of tea ready for them on his table, next to the waiting food. He was more fond of coffee himself, but he knew that Irish people loved a good cup of tea.

“Here,” he said, handing her the cooked piece of game on a plate as well as cutlery. “These are for you.”

She thanked him before they settled into a comfortable silence, sitting side by side. The rabbit was still good and apparently she enjoyed it, which managed to bring a smile to his lips.

“How did you sleep?” he asked after a little while, their meals mostly finished.

“Okay,” she admitted. “I didn’t get a lot of it but that was sorta my fault for bein’ up so late anyway. How did you sleep?”

“I just slept for a couple hours. I went out pretty early to go get that rabbit.”

“Ah, you didn’t have’ta do that—”

“I know,” he reassured her. “But I wanted to. I figured that you and me deserved somethin’ nice after a hectic evenin’.”

“Fair point,” she agreed with a smirk. “This definitely helped me to feel a bit better anyway.”

“And your brother will be back tomorrow too,” he reminded her. “Him and Hosea should have that job in Reno done by then.”

“Seein’ him again will be sure to help ease my mind a bit.”

“Are you gonna tell him what happened?”

“Maybe? I’m not entirely sure yet. He’ll at least be happy to hear about _us_ anyway.”

Arthur paused mid-sip, turning to face her. “Really?”

“Of course. He’s been tellin’ me for ages that I should get my finger out and approach you about it. Even when I was with—” She paused before starting over again. “Well, even when I was really convinced that you didn’t feel the same way about me, he still insisted that you did. I guess he’s better at judgin’ people than I am.”

“Maybe he’s better than the both of us,” he joked. “Knowin’ he’d be okay with it is good though. The last thing I wanna do is start some fight and be on the receivin' end of one’a William’s fists.”

“Trust me,” she reassured him. “He wouldn’t dare. He’s way too fond of you and the thought of us, well, _together_, I guess.”

“Maybe we could talk about that?” Arthur suggested with casual shrug. “Considerin’ we said we would.”

Maebh agreed with a nod, leaving her empty plate on the table and clutching her warm cup of tea in her hands. “Yeah, you’re right. I mean, I’d like to court you if you’re up for it.”

“I’d definitely like to,” he said, probably a little too fast. He felt his cheeks burning. “As long as you’re comfortable with that.”

“I am, but I’ve never courted someone before. I’m not tryin’ to be awkward or anythin’, but I don’t have much experience with it.”

“To tell you the truth, I ain’t had much either. Me and Eliza wasn’t really courtin’. The only woman I was ever serious about was Mary.”

He noticed her eyes flitting the framed photo next to his cot. “Mary. She was the woman you were with when you were pretty young, right?”

“Yeah, before Eliza and Isaac.”

She nodded slowly with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Well, we can always get more experience together. It might be a bit awkward at first but I think we’ll be fine after a while. And we can tell the rest of camp whenever we’re ready.”

“Sounds good,” he said. “If I do anythin’ you ain’t comfortable with just tell me.”

“Same goes to you too.” Her smaller fingers linked through his and he looked down at their entwined hands with a sort of surprised wonder. “Which begs the question; can I kiss you again?”

Somewhat nervous, Arthur cast a quick glance around camp before he replied. “Trust me, you don’t ever need to ask me that.”

While she smiled so widely in response, he leaned in and pressed his lips gently against hers. Her slim fingers clenched tightly against his sweaty palm as he enjoyed the softness of her lips. Bar their encounter last night in the boat, Arthur could barely remember the last time he kissed a woman. He hadn’t gone near any working women since Eliza’s passing and had been basically void of any physical affection for years, so he shouldn’t have been surprised by how excited he became at the concept of a simple kiss. Perhaps it was _who_ he was kissing that was the real root of his flustered reaction. 

He was lost in her presence until someone announced themselves with a low whistle. “_Jesus_, King Arthur strikes again.”

Arthur’s eyes snapped open as he leaned away from Maebh. Sean stood outside his tent, hands on his hips and exceedingly smug as usual.

“_Excuse me?”_ Arthur sneered, looking profoundly surprised by the kid’s idiocy.

Maebh placed a hand on his shoulder. “Arthur, don’t mind him—”

“I should’a known it was you she had her eyes on,” Sean replied with a grin. “For a while I even thought it was that Marston fella.”

“Whatchu say to me?”

“Ah, nothin’. I’m only havin’ a laugh. It’s just like the English tryin’ to take over Ireland, as per usual—”

Arthur was up on his feet in seconds despite Maebh’s protests. He got right into Sean’s face as the boy scampered backwards in an attempt to evade his advances. “Say another word, boy, and I’ll show you what your insides look like!”

Sean held his hands up. “Message received, Morgan. Message received. I’ll keep me mouth shut, alright?”

Delighting in the younger man’s lack of composure, Arthur spoke in a low voice. “That’s what I like to hear. If I ever catch you leerin’ or talkin’ ’bout me and my woman again, I’ll be sure to drown you in that lake myself. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

Without another word, Sean hurried off and Arthur let out a frustrated sigh. He could practically _feel_ several curious pairs of eyes from around camp staring. He rejoined Maebh’s side and knew she was studying him carefully.

“Well,” she drawled out. “I guess we don’t have to tell the rest of camp now.”

“I’m sorry. He really got on my damn nerves.”

“You’re alright,” she assured him and gently kissed his bearded cheek. “I probably would’ve told him to feck off if you hadn’t beat me to it. At least now we don’t have to make a big deal outta it with the rest of camp.”

“I guess not.”

“They had to find out eventually right?”

“I would’a preferred it was on our terms.”

Maebh set down her empty cup and clasped his hand in hers. “Me too, but I think we would’ve gotten found out eventually.”

He considered her words and realised that she was probably right. “Maybe so. It’s probably pretty hard to keep a relationship under wraps ’round here.”

Before she could reply, Davey appeared outside the tent. “’Scuse me, folks, sorry to interrupt. Arthur, Dutch is lookin’ for you in his tent. Says he wants to discuss some big plans.”

Arthur almost felt a need to say he was already busy — the knee-jerk reaction actually shocking him somewhat — but Maebh was the first to open her mouth. “I should probably go do my chores before Miss Grimshaw grabs me by the ear. We can talk more later.”

Arthur watched her get to her feet but was admittedly hesitant about letting go of her hand. “O’course. I might need ya for whatever these big plans are.”

“And I’ll be around. Thanks for breakfast.” 

He watched her leave and Davey nodded to her as she walked away. “About time, Morgan.”

Arthur waved him off as he got to his feet. “I know, I know. You don’t need to tell me.”

He appreciated that Davey didn’t bug him much about it — unlike _Sean_ — and he hurried to reach Dutch’s tent before anyone else decided to annoy him that morning. “You wanted to see me?”

Inside, Dutch had a set of maps laid out over a table. He stood over them, studying the pages intensely before turning his attention away. “Arthur, my boy. Indeed I do wanna see ya.”

“You got some work?”

“Not exactly. Well, at least not right now. I’m plannin’ some big jobs for the future. Even bigger than before.”

His words at least confirmed the suspicions that Arthur previously discussed with Maebh. He stepped closer, eying the maps curiously. “Bigger?”

“Bigger cities means bigger scores to be had, my friend. Bigger scores means more money to use as a means to live the way we wanna live, not by the rules given by the criminals in our so-called government.”

“I understand that, Dutch, and I think we all agree, but how _big_ are we talkin’?”

“Come and see.” As Arthur took a seat next to him, Dutch pointed to Arizona on the map and continued on. “So, I’ve been thinkin’ about movin’ a little bit. Not too far like when we came here from Fulton, but somewhere near Tucson. They’ve apparently got a couple banks worth lookin’ at.”

“City banks? They ain’t no small fish.”

Dutch scowled at him before offering him a cigarette. “They ain’t, but they got some on the outskirts which will be easier to handle. You think I’d send you all into a goddamn bank in the middle of the city?”

Arthur shrugged as he accepted the gift. “Well you said ‘big’ and I wasn’t sure how _big_ you was talkin’.”

“Not _that_ big. Now look, it _is_ a big take but I think we can manage just fine with the guns we got.”

“Can we?” Arthur asked genuinely. “Tucson is bigger than Reno, and we ain’t even hit their bank yet.”

“We haven’t, but there’s nothin’ stoppin’ us from hittin’ a bank before we head down to Tucson. I’m thinkin’ that we could head down there in the new year and make a name for ourselves. It’ll take less than two weeks to get there. We could settle outside the city near Oracle, here—” He pointed on the map to a settlement about thirty miles north east from Tucson. “—and settle along one of its creeks. We can plan the heist from there and scout the city to familiarise ourselves with the area, as per usual. Whether we go for a stealthy approach or a more, well, _daring_ approach, will be discussed the more we find out.”

Arthur nodded along, peering at the maps thoughtfully as he puffed on his cigarette. “Alright, sounds good enough to me. Have you talked to Hosea about it yet?”

Dutch shook his head. “I’ve be waitin’ for him to return so that I can talk to him. I can’t see him bein’ against it though. He should be able to help me piece it all together. We’ll still have some time in these parts anyway, and maybe we can rob another smaller bank in that time. Can I count on you to have my back?”

“You don’t even need to ask,” Arthur replied with no hesitation. “As long as we do it right, I’ll be there whenever you need me, Dutch.”

The older man grinned and leaned back in his seat. “I don’t doubt it, son. We’ll be buyin’ our own land and livin’ like kings before 1897 is over. You mark my words.”

* * *

After leaving Arthur’s tent, Maebh went to Pearson’s wagon looking for work.

In her humble opinion, chopping vegetables was infinitely better than cleaning laundry.

She was happily focussing on slicing up carrots when Mary-Beth appeared by her side. The young woman was grinning uncontrollably as if she knew some mystifying secret.

Maebh raised a brow at her. “Eh, you alright there, Mary-Beth?”

“Sorry,” she said airily. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I might’a heard somethin’ to do with you and Arthur.”

“I suppose it’s kinda hard not to hear when Sean was shoutin’ about it.”

“Is it true? Are you two courtin’?”

“Uh,” Maebh stammered, trying to make sure she didn’t accidentally chop her finger off. “I think so? We haven’t really figured out what exactly—”

Mary-Beth was already celebrating, dancing on her feet and dragging her over to where Tilly, Karen, and Annabelle were sewing some old clothes.

“It’s _true!”_ she declared in a delighted whisper. “Arthur and Maebh are courtin’!”

The genuine glee in her friends’ eyes almost made her blush. They seemed so happy with the development, each woman offering her enthusiastic congratulations.

“’Bout time one of us actually got some action,” Karen snorted. “Took your damn time though.”

Tilly scoffed. “You can’t say anythin’ when _you_ won’t approach Sean.”

“She doesn’t need to,” Annabelle added. “Considerin’ he spends so much time over here tryin’ to chat us all up.”

“A fair point…”

Annabelle then looked at Maebh. “You have to tell us the details.”

While the other women’s excitement grew, an embarrassed Maebh tried to pacify them. “Tonight maybe! Not while I’m meant to be choppin’ vegetables in case Grimshaw sees.”

“You better tell us tonight,” Tilly replied. “And tell us everythin’ you’re comfortable with.”

She agreed to do just that before hurrying back to Pearson’s wagon and the abandoned carrots. She was, unsurprisingly, moving with an extra skip in her step, a thing she hadn’t done since she and John were some sort of _thing_. The giddiness in her stomach was a welcome change from the longing she used to feel staring hopelessly after Arthur. It was a sort of joyful anticipation coupled with a comfortable peace. She couldn’t wait to talk to him about it again and solidify where exactly they were, but courting sounded like a bloody great idea to her.

She was admittedly lost in semi-inappropriate daydreams when she noticed Abigail by her side, carrying Jack on her hip. “Do my ears deceive me, or did you and Arthur finally bite the bullet and get some common sense?”

Maebh was amused by her blunt attitude. “Your ears aren’t lyin’, we finally did just that.”

“Took y’all long enough,” she replied. “I was wonderin’ whether I’d need to interfere myself. Who stepped up first?”

“It was kinda both of us but mostly Arthur. He really went out of his way to make the point known, so I have to give him credit where it’s due. He had more courage than me.”

“Well thank God for that man’s courage then,” Abigail sighed before smiling widely. “I’m happy for you two. ’Bout time you both got some happiness, especially together. At least _someone_ in this camp will have a successful relationship.”

Maebh hummed as she handed little Jackie a piece of carrot. “Except Annabelle.”

“Except Annabelle.” They were quiet for a moment, eyes on Jack as he munched on the vegetable. Abigail then quickly added. “You got yourself a good man there, Maebh. I’d hang on to him if I was you.”

Maebh certainly agreed — she would be mad not to. “I promise you that I don’t plan on lettin’ him go anywhere.”

The rest of the gang’s reaction were relatively calm. Considering Sean was such a goddamn loudmouth, it meant that she didn’t need to tell anyone else as they had already heard all about it. The only ones that hadn’t heard were William and Hosea, who were still in Reno. When her brother returned the following morning, she had to build up the courage to tell him even though she never worried about his reaction. She wasn’t sure what it was — perhaps a nervous excitement? She was at least confident that he wouldn’t react the same way he did when she admitted to sleeping with John. That was one comforting fact of which she was sure.

The duo returned to camp, carrying their take from the con job with pride.

“I swear, kid,” Hosea was saying as they split up their money. “You’ve got the gift of the gab. It must be all that actin’ of yours.”

Maebh watched from her spot by the scout campfire as William answered. “It helps that I’m learnin’ from the best.”

“Talkative _and_ smart. I think you might have found your callin’. I’ll report back to Dutch — you go see that sister’a yours.”

William didn’t need to be told twice, he was already going to join her while shoving his cash into his satchel. “Did you miss me?”

“Oh I was a mess without you,” Maebh replied sarcastically, though she was well aware that it wasn’t exactly far from the truth. “An absolute mess.”

“No surprises there,” he replied without missing a beat and sat down next to her. “But seriously, you feelin’ any better?”

“Much better actually. I was doin’ a lot of thinkin’ lately but I’m feelin’ better now.”

“That’s great,” he said without a hint of sarcasm. “I’d much rather come home to find you happy than sad.”

“I’m well aware. I have a bit of news actually.”

William’s face immediately fell. “Ah Jaysus, Marston is back, isn’t he?”

She had to laugh, grabbing his attention again as he looked around the camp skeptically. “No, no! I would’ve given you ample warnin’ if he was. It’s about Arthur, actually.”

“Morgan? Is he alright?”

“Yeah, he’s grand. He’s good, actually.” She paused, trying to find words without sounding like an awkward idiot. “We, eh, talked.”

William blinked. “Talked?”

“About stuff.”

“Can you maybe elaborate a bit, Maebh? God, I haven’t seen you this tongue tied since you and Marston—” As if realising what he said, his eyes grew wide and he stared at his sister in uncertain excitement. “Wait…”

Maebh smiled in anticipation, nodding slowly at the questioning look in his green eyes.

“_Did you ride Arthur?”_

She burst out laughing, trying to calm him down at the same time. “No, we didn’t ride! We just y’know, kissed.”

“You _kissed?”_ he exclaimed with even more excitement. The pure delight in his expression gave her so much relief considering how he had reacted to her last romantic endeavour. “Did you’s really?”

“Yeah, really! You seem happy.”

“_Happy? _I’m bleedin’ delighted for you!”

Suddenly she was pulled into his arms, a brotherly hug squeezing her tightly as she continued to laugh. “This is such a relief!”

“Are you jokin’? I’ve been at the pair of you for ages to just go for it and you finally have! This is class! Are you’s courtin’, or what?”

“Officially yes, but we’re goin’ t’take it slow at a pace we’re both comfortable with.”

“Ah, this is just… great! Oh! Tilly owes me money now, actually. But never mind that; you have to tell me what happened.” She opened her mouth to reply but he swiftly spoke again. “Actually, tell me in a sec. Where is he?”

Maebh nodded to the shoreline of the lake where Arthur was gathering pails of water. William was already on his feet and she was closely following him. “What are you at?”

“I’m bein’ your brother,” he replied. “Relax. I’m not goin’ t’hit him.”

Arthur turned as they made their way towards him. “Welcome back, Mr. Hennigan.”

“Ah feck off with the pleasantries, Arthur,” William replied. “I heard you were kissin’ my sister.”

As Maebh gave William’s arm a tug, Arthur stammered. “Well, uh, ya see—”

“It’s about bloody time!” He gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. “I’ve been hopin’ one of you’s would get your finger out.”

“I’m just relieved you ain’t hittin’ me or somethin’,” Arthur said with a small smile. “I was kinda expectin’ as much.”

“I wouldn’t dare, but you better look after her.”

“Hell, if I don’t, you got full permission to punch me in the face.”

William extended his hand. “Deal! We’ll be drinkin’ tonight to celebrate. We can have some whiskey in our tent later on.”

Arthur shook his hand and an agreement was made while Maebh looked on, quietly content to see her brother and her suitor getting along so well. For the first time in a while, her thoughts of leaving the camp practically fell apart. All things considered, her life appeared to be in a good and stable place. With her mind at ease, she was more than happy to spend the evening downing whiskey with her two favourite boys.

* * *

** _15th February, 1897, outside Oracle, Arizona_ **

_We’ve been in our new spot outside Oracle for a few weeks now and everyone seems to have settled in well. William wasn’t overly eager about leaving Washoe Lake behind, but he seems to have relaxed more since. Dutch and Hosea chose a spot where the Big Wash stream meets the Threeway Wash. We’re in the thick of the dessert now, but thankfully the streams give us a handy enough supply of water and our tents offer shade. I feel lucky that I had the heat in Nevada to prepare me for the heat in Arizona. We’re also in a good spot where we don’t need to travel too far for supplies. The community of Oracle lies in the east while down south are Oro Valley and Tucson itself. There are also a few ranches south from our camping spot. Myself and Arthur have gone into Oracle to explore several times already and the locals seem like the friendly sort._

_Things are — by all accounts — good!_

_I’ve also heard from Arthur that apparently we’ve moved down this way because Dutch has his eye on one of the banks in Tucson. It’s bigger than anything we’ve done before so the concept has me slightly nervous. We have a good team sure, but this will be different than any other bank job we’ve done before. Maybe I’m still feeling the same guilt from last year and maybe I’m even more paranoid about losing Arthur now that he’s mine. A bigger take means more money, but it also means more to lose…_

_Speaking of, things with Arthur are also good. I think we’re mostly used to our new dynamic now, even if he’s still kind of bashful at times. Taking it slow was probably a good shout because it feels like there’s way less pressure between us. Things feel more natural, more peaceful, and I’m sure as hell happy with the arrangement._

* * *

Dutch was exceedingly set on this bank and Maebh couldn’t do much else other than go along with it. She was admittedly nervous about the risks but she also had a lot of faith in Dutch. That man had gotten them out of so many scrapes before and he had yet to give her a reason to doubt. Hosea seemed more hesitant but wasn’t about to bash the idea completely.

Preparations were underway for it to take place in April and a team was chosen: Dutch, Arthur, Hosea, William, Bill, Karen, and Maebh herself. Practically the same team from the bank job in Winterset back three and a half years ago, minus John. Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, Maebh, and William headed into Tucson that day, scouting the place and familiarising themselves with the city and the bank they intended on robbing. It was situated next to the Rillito River, away from the busier parts of the settlement and thus would be easier to handle. Hopefully the police wouldn’t be the quickest responders and Hosea said he would be able to organise a distraction on the other side of the city to take most of the heat away. They went over options while in the city, throwing out ideas and possible ways of throwing the tellers off their guard.

With their reconnaissance finished for the day, Dutch and Hosea explained that they were going to head to Oracle to collect their post. Having already sent a letter to the O’Driscolls about their newest job, he was expecting a response. Arthur, William, and Maebh agreed to go too, suggesting that a visit to the local saloon once they collected any post wasn’t such a bad idea.

It was late afternoon when they returned to Oracle and Maebh found herself waiting in the saloon for Dutch and Hosea, in the company of her brother and her partner. They already ordered food for everyone and happily sipped on some whiskey while it was being cooked.

“I’m tellin’ ye,” William was explaining quietly. “We have’ta let Karen be the one to lure the bank guards and the tellers in, right? That’s her area of expertise.”

Arthur hummed in his seat. “But is she gonna be the drunken harlot or the lost little girl?”

“Maybe she’ll have a new bit,” Maebh suggested. “Somethin’ even more tactical. Once we all get together and start talkin’ plans, I’m sure we’ll have a solid idea of what we’re doin’.”

“Dutch wouldn’t have it any other way,” Arthur agreed. “He wouldn’t send us in their like a bunch’a headless chickens. City banks are another story from small town banks. We gotta know what we’re doin’.”

“That’s why we’ve got a big team right?” William asked.

“Right. We didn’t exactly need this many folks back in Winterset — had things not turned into a goddamn shootout that is — but we definitely need ’em now just to be on the safe side.”

At that moment, Dutch and Hosea came through the saloon doors, talking earnestly as they spotted their friends.

“What’s the problem, fellers?” Arthur asked as they took their seats.

“Those goddamn O’Driscolls,” Dutch replied without missing a beat, tossing an opened letter on the table. “That’s what. They’re bein’ a damn thorn in my side.”

William seemed skeptical. “What’re they at now?”

“They don’t approve of the bank job,” Hosea explained with a look of disgust. “They say that it was their job and that they intend on hittin’ it themselves in a couple months.”

“They’re in the country?” Maebh questioned him in surprise.

“Apparently so, and accordin’ to Matthew, that bank will be hit by Colm and  Eóghan O’Driscoll. Read it out there, Miss Hennigan.”

Maebh obliged, picking up the paper and recognising Matthew’s hand writing. She read the words aloud for the rest of the table to hear.

_Dear Mr. Van der Linde,_

_Mr. O’Driscoll was happy to hear that you and your gang didn’t shrivel up on your desert journey. Arizona is a wonderful place, isn’t it? Very much the _ _aesthetic_ _ that a lawless outlaw like you thrives in, I would imagine. Unfortunately for you, that bank in Tucson is already a target of the O’Driscolls and as such isn’t to be touched by the Van der Linde Gang. We plan to take it for ourselves come summer time. As was our agreement, no gang would touch the target of another, with the exception of that stagecoach you lot left behind. We knew you wouldn’t be up for murdering those women and children, so consider it a moment of opportunity. That bank is _ _ours_ _, Mr. Van der Linde, and it is not to be tampered with. So run along like a good boy and focus your attention on something smaller — let the men handle this one._

_Regards,_

_Matthew_

_P.s. We spotted that greasy boy of yours — Mr. Marston — in Colorado a few weeks back. It seems that fatherhood is really treating him well, given the dirty clothes and intoxicated state. Truly the golden boy of your gang! How… pathetic._

Maebh was seeing red as she tossed the letter back on the table. “What the hell is that guy’s problem? ”

William rolled his eyes. “Have you _met_ Matthew?”

Arthur was already placing a comforting hand on her knee but he too was visibly perturbed. “Don’t mind him. He was always one for the goddamn theatrics, but more importantly, what are we doin’ about it, Dutch? We lettin’ the job go?”

There was a moment of silence as their barkeep arrived with their food, placing bowls of chilli con carne for everyone to enjoy. Unfortunately, their moods were already soured.

Dutch shrugged and began to eat his food, knuckles white with how forcefully he gripped the spoon. “We ain’t lettin’ that job go, not on my watch.”

Maebh stared at him in surprise. “We’re not?”

“We need the money, Miss Hennigan, and that is a large take.”

“_Do_ we need the money, Dutch?” Hosea challenged him and the table descended into stunned silence.

Dutch stared at his oldest friend in surprise. “Of course we do. Why would I have us rob it if we didn’t?”

“But what do we need it for? Poor locals? We ain’t given anythin’ back to the community since John left.”

“We ain’t gonna hoard that money for ourselves,” Dutch replied defensively. “Now, you all know me and we agree on what this gang is about; helping others and livin’ free. That is what we are doin’, my friends. We need money to sustain that way of life and help those who need helpin’. We need that money if we’re to keep goin’, maybe even buy a plot of our own land with a large sum, who knows.”

“But robbin’ that bank means goin’ against the pact with the O’Driscolls,” Hosea reminded him. “That’s serious business, Dutch. It could send us into an all out war with them if we’re foolish enough to take it.”

“Are you sayin’ you wouldn’t be up for killin’ a few of those bastards?”

“I have nothin’ against killin’ common criminals but I don’t want _our_ people to die.”

“And they _won’t_,” Dutch said sternly, offering no room for argument. “Ain’t no one gonna die.”

“Can you guarantee that?”

“Those idiots can argue all they like about havin’ their eyes on that bank first, but they planned on takin’ one of our own jobs as that creep Matthew stated in this letter. I can use that as an excuse to talk my way out of a brawl — an eye for an eye, and that’ll be the end of it. No one needs to die. But if we’re to pull this off, I need you all to have my back. We can’t do this if people are uncertain or unwillin’.”

After a short second of contemplation, Arthur was the first to speak up. “I’ll follow you wherever you need to go, Dutch. You know that.”

“I never doubted you, son,” Dutch admitted and placed an appreciative hand on his shoulder. “Not for a second.”

Maebh was afraid to admit it aloud, but the thought of stirring something with the O’Driscoll Boys _did_ make her nervous. They were ruthless scum, a thought that was confirmed with their carry on over the stagecoach. It wasn’t that she didn’t have faith in Dutch — it was that she didn’t trust Matthew and his friends as far as she could throw them.

But Arthur seemed to believe that they could pull off both the robbery and the gang confrontation, and Maebh valued his opinion even more than she valued Dutch’s. She had to admit that he was right in the fact that the gang wouldn’t be able to survive if they argued amongst themselves. That man could talk his way out of anything and she had witnessed it many times. How could this time be any different? Her concerns lay with her friends, but mostly with her brother and her partner.

“We’re with you too,” Maebh added. “As always.”

“Of course,” William replied in earnest. “We’re here to help.”

“Would you look at this team, Hosea,” Dutch said with visible awe, sending the siblings appreciative looks. “We’ve got the finest outlaws any man could ask for, and I intend to do all I can to protect them. You and I can handle Colm and Eóghan and make sure that there are no lives lost.”

Hosea was quiet, studying the younger man carefully. “You gotta understand, Dutch. This ain’t me doubtin’ you. It’s me worryin’ about seein’ harm comin’ to people who don’t deserve it. That Matthew feller sounds like he’s bullin’ for a fight and there are other banks to be had.”

“There are no other banks that we can rob with a reward this high. I know that your concern is comin’ from a good place, but we need that money to keep those people safe from the men that would lock us all up the second they get a chance. We’ve got the _finest_ guns in the west on that bank job, and two of the best con men—” He used his spoon to point between himself and Hosea. “—to talk our way out of a scrap with those degenerates. Matthew doesn’t call the shots with them — Colm and Eóghan do, and we can talk to them without issue, mark my words. Matthew ain’t my concern — he’s merely a messenger and an annoying one at that. He spoke down to me and brought up poor John to get a rise outta us, and that ain’t about to happen. I won’t play into his hands ’cause it’s exactly what he wants.

“The thing about it is, I can’t in good conscience go ahead with my plan without your go ahead because we _all_ need you by my side to pull it off. I know that for a fact — I ain’t an arrogant man. So, what do you say, old friend?”

Maebh eyed Hosea from her seat, food forgotten and her hand gently squeezing Arthur’s in an attempt to find more comfort. Despite his previous reservations, Hosea conceded, nodding his head with a look of acceptance. “Alright, alright. We’ll do it your way. As long as we agree to lie low after this one and we talk to those O’Driscolls without startin’ a fight. Whatever they ask us to do, we do within reason, once it means the safety of the gang is ensured.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, my friend,” Dutch agreed and shook his hand. As the thick air eased, he eat a large spoonful of his chilli with a prominent smile. His confidence was in no way quiet but his self-assuredness was as infectious as ever. “We’ll talk tactics when we get back to camp, because we’ve got a big ol’ city bank to rob, ladies and gentlemen.”

As was their way, the gang were happy to place their faith in Dutch, agreeing to his ideas under the knowledge that they would go down without a hitch. They had so many successful years on the run with so many successful robberies achieved. Despite her uncertainty, Maebh supposed that this step up to a city bank was expected. She had to accept the she would always worry about William and Arthur no matter how big the job was. And as Matthew stated before, Colm O’Driscoll wasn’t interested in wasting time and men on the Van der Linde Boys. Despite her reservations about this life, she couldn’t help but believe their leader’s words. He had saved them many times over, picked them off the street when they were orphans and loved them like a father. He would keep them safe, he would put his best foot forward, he would take care of them.

She had to believe it, because if she didn’t, what would she have left other than doubts?


	32. Relationships, for Beginners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang attempt to rob the bank in Tucson and Maebh finally tells Arthur everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy, folks! Another chapter for you's to enjoy, this one featuring a conversation that a lot of people were curious about. I'm also almost finished my commission work which has been a lot of fun (thanks to those who offered kind congratulations too!) so I should be back into a consistent swing of things soon. At least you's are still getting an update weekly ;)  
Curious to hear your thoughts on this one as it was a struggle to write at points, but I'm still happy with the outcome. As always, thanks for sticking around and sharing any and all thoughts. Reading the comments always makes my day :) Enjoy!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Cig in the Breeze” — The Scratch, “For Better or Worse” — Henry Jackman, “If I Go, I’m Goin’” — Gregory Alan Isakov, “Ashokan Farewell” — Jay Ungar, Molly Mason & Fiddle Fever

The bank beside the Rillito River in Tucson was quiet that April morning. Maebh was dressed casually, no weapons on her person, standing next to Arthur as he conversed with the bank teller. They were stalling for time, waiting for Hosea and William’s prepared signal from the other side of town. She knew that the rest of the team were in position as well. There were a handful of civilians checking their own accounts in the windows next to theirs and a single lawman by the door.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Arthur was asking her, playing his part well.

“I think we should probably discuss in it private before making a decision,” she replied, glancing at the friendly teller. “Just to be sure.”

Arthur rolled his eyes in jest before turning back to the teller. “Women, am I right, mister?”

The teller chuckled. “They certainly know what they want.”

“That’s one way’a puttin’ it.”

As they drifted off to the side of the room, the ground beneath them suddenly rumbled and low boom came from the south.

“That would be Hosea and William,” Arthur noted under his breath, holding her hand a little tighter. “Right on time.”

She nodded in agreement. “They don’t disappoint.”

The teller behind the counter leaned forward in his seat. “What in the— What was that?”

Arthur stayed calm, but with an ounce of apprehension in his voice. “I ain’t got a clue, mister.”

Suddenly, the doors burst open and in came Karen and Bill. Karen, in a complete nun’s outfit, stumbled around, yelling with a drunken slur. “You stay away from me, you hear? I never wanna see your goddamn face again!”

Bill appeased her with his best acting skills. “It wasn’t what it looked like, darlin’! I don’t even know who she was—”

“Like hell you didn’t!”

The one lawman guarding the bank — who was busy peering out the window when the explosion happened — approached the pair. “What exactly is the problem here, Sister?”

“The _problem?”_ Karen slurred, swinging around unsteadily to face him. “The _problem_ is that smelly, ol’, piece’a shit over there!”

The guard took a slight step back while the clerk looked on in shock. “Sister, have you been drinkin’?”

“Drownin’ my sorrows, more like! After that bastard was in the arms of another woman.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Bill insisted. “I didn’t do nothin’!”

“Say that to me one more time!”

In a flash, Karen straightened up and drew a pistol from beneath her clothes. Before the lawman could even get his hand to his holster, she had pistol whipped him in the face so hard that he was out cold.

She pulled back her clothes, revealing two rifles and a shotgun beneath them. “Everybody get your goddamn hands up!”

The gang pulled on their bandanas and sprung into action.

Dutch kicked the door open, duel revolvers in his hands and firing a single warning shot into the ceiling. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a robbery!”

Karen tossed the two rifles to Maebh and Arthur while Bill took the shotgun to immediately begin gathering the innocent bystanders.

“Into the corner!” he herded them with a harsh grunt. “Into the damn corner now before I blow your heads off!”

“No one needs to get shot today, folks,” Maebh called out, aiming at the terrified clerks. “As long as you don’t do anythin’ stupid. Otherwise you’s will have blood on your hands!”

“We got them under control,” Karen assured them as she and Bill kept their eyes on the bystanders. “Ain’t none of them stupid enough to try bein’ a hero.”

Dutch relished in the madness, managing to stay calm and dictate every move made within the bank. He pointed to Arthur. “Mr. M, why don’t you get the bank manager to open up that vault for us to take a peek?”

“With pleasure,” Arthur growled and shoved his rifle into the stunned manager’s face. “Open the damn vault now, or I’ll put a bullet right between your eyes!”

The manager was visibly terrified despite his hesitance to comply. He didn’t move and Arthur didn’t take kindly to it.

“You wanna die, pal?” he demanded and socked the guy right in the nose. “_Open the damn vault!”_

With his ego (and face) bruised, the quivering manager quickly began to work on the vault’s door, turning the dial with a shaking hand. Maebh checked the windows and it seemed that they still had time; the street outside was practically deserted thanks to their earlier distraction.

Dutch turned to her. “How’re we lookin’, Miss H?”

“We’re still good,” she assured him. “But no harm in him movin’ faster.”

“Do as the lady says,” Arthur snarled, urging the manager onwards. “We ain’t got all day, but it’ll only take me a few seconds to kill you!”

The vault door opened with a heavy creek, the manager pulling it with two heaves of his arms. He obediently stepped out of the way as Arthur stormed inside. The manager breathed a sigh of relief before Dutch clicked his pistol and aimed it at his head.

“The numbers, mister,” he demanded in a low voice. “Give him the combination to open the safes.”

“We got two safes in here,” Arthur called back. “I could do with you gettin’ the second one, Miss. H.”

Maebh hurried inside while Karen took up position by the windows and left Bill with the civilians.

“The first number for the first safe,” Dutch insisted with an eerily calm voice. “_Now_, so we can make this quick.”

The manager reeled off the numbers as each one was requested — 03, 16, 84. Arthur quickly opened the safe’s door. “Alright, I’m in!”

“Now the second safe, Mr. Bank Manager.”

Maebh listened to the numbers — 85, 04, 17 — and used the dial to open the door. “I’m in, lads!”

“Wouldja look at that,” Dutch rejoiced with a chuckle. “What did I tell ya? Grab some of that smaller loot on your way out, if you’d be so kind.”

She happily stuffed the dollar bills into her loot bag, along with several gold bars. It was a hefty take which was exactly what they needed. Doing as Dutch asked, her and Arthur grabbed anything they could get their hands on before exiting the vault.

Karen took a look out the window and called out to them, signalling that their ride was here. “Time for us to leave, boys!Let’s get movin’.”

Dutch strutted by the manager as the gang began to sneak out the front doors. “Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

Karen let out a hearty chuckle. “Amen!”

Outside their ride was waiting. Around the corner from the bank, William and Hosea arrived with the wagon originally used to carry the explosives. Now empty, it was to be used as a means of transporting their take. As inconspicuously as possible, she and Arthur hauled the bags inside with William’s help before he pulled the sheet over the goods.

“You’s did well,” he commented lowly. “Very well.”

“Couldn’t have done it without your handy work,” Arthur replied. “As always.”

“I told you,” Hosea said from his seat at the head of the wagon. “The boy is a natural.”

“We’ll meet you at the ridge,” Dutch reassured them. “Go as quick as you can. They won’t be lookin’ for a wagon.”

Maebh reached up to grab her brother’s hand. “You stay safe ,you hear me?”

William winked at her and squeezed her hand affectionately. “I’ve already been shot once before and trust me, I don’t plan on lettin’ it happen again.”

“We’ve gotta move, Maebh,” Arthur rushed her gently, guiding her to where their horses were hitched. “He’ll be just fine.”

She knew he was right and quickly hauled herself up on to the saddle, petting Dullahan’s neck affectionately.

“We split up as planned,” Dutch ordered, leading The Count to the front of the line. “Bill and Karen, go in the same direction as the wagon in case they need more guns but keep a safe distance away. Arthur and Maebh, stay with me. We all meet at the ridge later. Stay safe, fellers! Look out for each other!”

Without further delay, the gang split up and made their escape. The plan was to head north to the Santa Catalina Mountains, more specifically a peak called Mount Kimball where they planned to regroup with the others. It was far enough away and remote enough that they should be able to lose any lawmen that came after them. She urged Dullahan into a gallop, storming through the streets of Tucson with Dutch and Arthur leading the way. When they crossed the river, they heard the distinct sound of whistles signalling that someone had presumably alerted the lawmen about the bank.

“We need to pick up the pace, you two,” Dutch insisted pointing to the trail up ahead leading to the mountains. “They’ll be on to us.”

Maebh gave her mare some reassurance to keep pushing. “C’mon, Dullahan. You’ve got this. _Maith an cailín._”

The rode through the dusty landscape, the towering mountains getting closer and closer as the ground slowly sloped upwards. She was breathing harshly beneath her mask, thighs straining and body leaning forward. She glanced over her shoulder to see four riders on their tail, rifles aimed and ready.

“We’ve got company!” she announced.

“Keep movin’,” Dutch reassured her. “We can lose ’em in the mountains!”

“I can shoot,” Arthur said from his saddle, rifle already trained over his shoulder. “If needs be—”

Right on cue, a bullet whizzed over her head, narrowly avoiding them and their horses. “_Jaysus!”_

Dutch had seen enough. “Hell, if you can shoot and ride, then _shoot!”_

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice. He was happy to fire his rifle, managing to down one of the riders in the front. Maebh assisted him, twisting in her saddle and steadying her aim as much as possible given the bumpy ride. She held her breath, then exhaled as she pulled the trigger, narrowly missing one pursuer. On the second shot, she didn’t miss, downing another rider into the dust.

The mountains were within reach and with them, their safety.

“C’mon,” Dutch pushed them. “We’re nearly there!”

Arthur called out next. “I think they’re fallin’ back.”

With their numbers halved and two men either dead or wounded, Maebh witnessed the remaining lawmen slowing their horses until they appeared as barely a speck in the distance. The three of them began to cheer, celebrating their escape.

“We don’t slow down until we reach that peak,” their leader reminded them. “They’ll probably be back ’round these foothills with reinforcements.”

The pressed on, carefully manoeuvring the horses through the small dirt paths of the Finger Rock Trail. They climbed up and up until Maebh could see the entire city of Tucson below, as well as the distant horizon.

“There’s no time to stop and admire the view,” Arthur teased her from atop Boadicea. “Though I can’t blame you for tryin’.”

“It’s really somethin’,” she agreed before turning back to the trail ahead. “We should come out here sometime for a ride.”

He looked at her for a second. “For a _what?”_

“—with the horses,” she quickly clarified, nearly shouting with embarrassed urgency. “I mean for a ride with the _horses_.”

“Is there a problem back there?” Dutch asked with a hint of jest in his tone.

“None at all,” was her response. “Absolutely none.”

She could tell that Arthur wore a small grin beneath his bandana, guiding his horse alongside hers. He didn’t seem eager to tease her in front of Dutch. “We nearly at the spot yet?”

Dutch hummed and pointed up ahead. “Nearly. It should be just beyond that ridge. We’ll probably be the first ones there considerin’ the others are dealin’ with that wagon.”

They eased the horses into a canter, taking the sharper turns with care. Their journey was thankfully uneventful with no random lawmen showing up or falls along the trail. With no one in sight as they reached the spot next to Mount Kimball, the trio pulled down their masks and breathed in the cool mountain air.

“Now we sit,” Dutch began. “And wait.”

Maebh was thankful that they weren’t waiting too long. The sound of wheels and horses could be heard coming up another trail. When she saw Hosea and William appear over the hill, she breathed a sigh of relief. 

“How kind of you to join us, gentlemen,” Dutch greeted them with a wide smile. “Any trouble?”

“None at all,” Hosea replies. “They hardly paid us any attention at all. We were a little bit insulted by it.”

“Yeah, you two would be. Any sight of Karen and Bill?”

William nodded over his shoulder. “Right behind us.”

Moments later, said outlaws appeared over the hill, Karen still dressed in her nun outfit. “That was some job, fellers.”

“I’d say it went pretty well,” Bill agreed with his signature laugh. “Did you see all that cash?”

“We ain’t in the clear yet,” Dutch reminded them. “Best to change out of that get up, Miss Jones. Then we can continue on the trail back to camp. If anyone asks, we’re guns for hire guardin’ that wagon.”

While Karen went behind a boulder to get out of her costume, everyone else removed the duster coats they were wearing so that they looked somewhat different to the bank robbers. With everyone ready to go, they continued along a trail that would bring them out to the northern side of the mountain range where they could continue on their journey to camp.

“We won’t be out of the woods until we deal with those O’Driscolls, Dutch,” Hosea reminded him. “I imagine we’ll be receivin’ another letter from Matthew any day now.”

“Most likely,” Dutch agreed with a sigh. “And we’ll deal with them too.”

“We should probably talk about it beforehand. Discuss some sorta game plan for when they inevitably confront us.”

“That ain’t a bad idea. Me, you, and Arthur can talk tactics when we get back to camp.”

“Do you think that bastard is gonna be reasonable?” Bill asked, who clearly wasn’t Matthew’s biggest fan.

“He’ll have to be. The last thing Colm wants is a war between gangs and Mr. Matthew got bored of us very quickly. I doubt he’s got much interest in us anymore, bar sendin’ the odd gratin’ letter.”

William was curious. “He seemed t’care a lot about us before.”

“He’s probably moved on to terrorisin’ some other poor bastard.”

“Well if there’s anyone who can talk their way outta things,” Maebh said. “It would be you and Hosea.”

Dutch smiled at her. “_There_ is someone with the right attitude. _Faith_ — that’s what y’all need right now.”

“What if they ask for some of the take?” Karen wondered with an edge in her tone. “Surely they ain’t gettin’ it.”

William nodded his head. “Amen, Sister.”

“We might be able to pay them back in another way, if they do,” Hosea contemplated. “Maybe by workin’ a job with them, or gettin’ a smaller take. It all depends on how they react, I suppose.”

“While Hosea is right about the O’Driscolls,” Dutch began. “I think it’s best that we just focus on gettin’ back to Threeway Gulch first and worry about it then.”

Arthur was, as always, in agreement. “Whatever you want us to do, Dutch.”

With their plans made, the group of outlaws continued along the trail and made their way back to camp, following the familiar route and thankfully not coming into contact with any lawmen along the way. They brought the wagon to a halt once safely back at Threeway Gulch, the rest of the gang who stayed behind cheering at the sight of them. The money and gold was gathered, split apart between those who helped to rob it while the other half was put away in the camp funds, the location of which only Dutch knew for safety reasons. Celebrations were had, Javier whipped out his guitar and William his fiddle. The songs continued on even as the sun set and darkness swept over Falcon Valley. Growing sleepy, she and Arthur retired to his tent, earning some hoots and jeers from the others until William shushed them. Contrary to popular belief, Maebh and Arthur had yet to take their relationship to _that_ level. Both were nervous — mostly out of practice — and Arthur was even more uncertain about it than she was. She didn’t doubt his abilities, but she understood his hesitance and anxiety about being that close with someone again. That and he didn’t seem overly fond of big public displays of affection around camp. She really didn’t mind waiting until he was comfortable. At least he was willing to share a bed in the meantime. That way she could enjoy being wrapped in his strong arms — a feeling she decided was one of the best in the world, as cheesy as it sounded.

They were laying together in his cot, his tent canopy pulled around them in an attempt to shut out prying eyes. The cheerful voices of their gang mates could still be heard, singing songs and thoroughly enjoying their evening. Maebh was enjoying hers too, laying with Arthur and chatting in hushed voices, sometimes indulging themselves with languid kissing that made her heart race. Somehow it wasn’t weird, their close proximity feeling more natural now that time had progressed. 

They had been discussing their thoughts on the O’Driscolls when Arthur asked her a question. “Is there any reason why you keep touchin’ my nose like that?”

Maebh blinked, realising that she had been idly touching the bridge of his nose with her finger, admiring its shape and the scars that marred his skin. “Sorry, am I botherin’ you?”

“No, I’m just wonderin’ why you’re doin’ it.”

She shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I just think you have a nice nose.”

He winced at her words. “Are you playin’ with me?”

“Why would I be messin’?” she asked in distain. “I genuinely love your nose!”

His cheeks flushed, his insecurities rising to the surface. “Well, I… I don’t really see the big deal about my nose.”

Eager to calm his woes, she propped herself up on an elbow and tried to explain her thoughts. “I think I like all the details on it. People hold a lot of stories in their skin, especially their hands and faces. You’ve got these scars that have stories behind them, like the one on the right side of your nose.” She gently swept her finger all the sharp line in his skin. “And the one on your cheek too.” Her finger trailed across to his right cheek, to said scar, then moved downwards to his chin. “And the big one on your chin under your beard. I think it’s interestin’. I’ve got a few too. Some I got here and some I got back in Ireland. There are stories behind them, y’know? They add character and I think your nose has a lot of character with its scars. You can tell it’s been broken a few times.”

He was silent for a moment, gazing up at her with rapt fascination. There was still a hesitance there, something she was used to at this stage. If there was one thing she had learned about Arthur, it was his inability to accept a compliment. “You really think all that?”

“Would I lie to you?” she retorted.

“Well, no—”

“So I’m not lyin’. You’re really handsome, Arthur, flaws and all. I know you don’t think you are, but I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong.” 

Perhaps feeling a bit more confident, he let his hand rest on her forearm and pulled it to wrap around his waist. “I didn’t think that my nose would be somethin’ you liked so much.”

“If I’m bein’ honest, I just really like the whole lot of you. Do you remember when Hosea had his saddle stolen in Deer Creek and Mac threatened to shoot up the place?” 

Arthur chuckled, drumming his fingers against her skin. “How could I forget? That bar fight he started was a mess and I ended up walkin’ outta there with a broken nose.”

“See? There’s always stories to go with scars. How many times have you broken your nose?”

“Twice, both of which were wonderful experiences.”

“Ouch.”

“You’re tellin’ me. The first time was when I was younger — before you joined that gang. It was Marston’s fault actually — we got into a scrap not long after we first met. Little bastard managed to get a good hit with the handle of his pistol.” He started to laugh a the memory. “Little brat actually broke my nose. I was so shocked and angry. I didn’t talk to him for days until Dutch forced me too.”

While Arthur was reliving a surprisingly happy memory, Maebh frowned at the mention of John, recalling her own fond moments with him in the past while also thinking of their more secretive arrangements. Despite her admittance to Abigail about what happened, she had felt guilty in recent months, mostly because of Arthur. He had asked her a long time ago about whether there was anything going on with them, after which things became somewhat regular.

Arthur was still talking, reaching up to stroke her cheek. “You sure know how to make a man feel special, Maebh.”

His words made her smile before he pulled her down into a deep kiss. It managed to banish her worrisome thoughts for a moment before the guilt returned, weighing on her mind. She enjoyed the contrast between his beard scratching against her skin and the softness of his lips, tried to focus on him in the moment, but her worries returned as soon as he pulled back from her.

“Are you alight?” he murmured, eyes attentively focused on hers.

“Yeah,” she answered. “Sorry, I was just thinkin’.”

“Thinkin’ ’bout my nose?”

That got her to laugh. “Always.”

Though he was smiling, he was still concerned. “Somethin’ on your mind, sweetheart?”

She thought for a moment, appreciating that he gave her time to think it through. “Yeah, actually. Do you think I could talk to you ’bout somethin’?”

“What I do?” he joked, trying to ease the tension.

She proceeded to sit up on his cot, propping her back against the wagon. “Nothin’, I promise. You didn’t do anythin’ wrong.”

“Well that’s a relief at least.” He sat up next to her, holding her hand in his. “What d’you wanna talk about?”

She took a deep breath, trying very hard to steady her heart. “D’ye remember a few years back when we were livin’ in South Dakota? You asked me if there was somethin’ goin’ in between me and John and I said no.”

Her words made Arthur hesitate, anxiously rubbing his chin as he replied. “Yeah, I remember.”

She hated herself for even bringing this up again, but it seemed necessary. “You’ve been really honest with me about your past — not that your past partners would dictate whether I’d want to be with you or not. You told me about Eliza and Isaac, and even a bit about Mary. Considerin’ you asked me, I think it’s only fair that I’m honest too.

“Back around the time we robbed the bank in Watertown, I was, I guess, kinda mad about you. I realised that I really liked you, but you were rightly mournin’ for your family and you weren’t in the best place. I started thinkin’ that pursuin’ you was hopeless — not only did I think you could never possibly return my feelin’s, but you seemed to think that you didn’t deserve love and that maybe you couldn’t give it either. I can’t judge you for feelin’ that way, especially considerin’ what you were goin’ through at the time.

“So I used to talk to John about it. He was in a similar spot with Abigail and I used to hound him for not pursuin’ her. I guess I felt that he could understand even if I never outright told him about it before he told me that he already knew. Either way, I think things between us just reached a point after the bank robbery. We were all celebratin’ in Mitchell but I wasn’t up for it. John, he… well, propositioned me. It seemed like a good idea at the time — we were both pinin’ after other people we couldn’t get so why not sleep together to find some comfort in someone else? But things were weird afterwards and when you asked me if somethin’ was goin’ on between me and John, I just said no. At the time it was the truth — neither of us had plans to continue on. Except we eventually did.

“A few months after that we came to an agreement of sorts — we’d sleep together in secret. We’d keep it between us and have no commitment to the other. Only William knew. But then we found out about Abigail’s pregnancy. We, eh, called it off right there and then, considerin’ John now has a chance to be with he really wanted. I didn’t want to get in the way of that — he had a responsibility to her and what we agreed to was never meant to be permanent. Not to mention that my feelin’s for you hadn’t gone away even if I did spend time with John. I was sorta hopin’ they would ’cause I didn’t think I had a chance, but here we are.

“I eventually told Abigail back at Washoe. I felt guilty that John left and was worried it was my fault too, but she was so understandin’ ’bout the whole thing.” She paused, forcing herself to look at him. He sat with his hands clasped together, elbows resting on his knees as he took in her words. Uncertain of how to really end her tale, she opened and closed her mouth a few times before blurting out. “So, eh, only William and Abigail knew about it. It wasn’t exactly somethin’ I wanted to put out there for everyone in the gang to know. I was worried that people would assume there was more to it than that, but I felt like you should know at least. Considerin’ we’re y’know, together now.”

Arthur was quiet, contemplating the bombshell she had just dropped on him. Part of her was furious that she would ruin such a pleasant moment with the ugly truth, though she knew that delaying it anymore would only cause a rift between them. He was going to find out eventually and it was better that he heard it from her.

He cleared his throat and then murmured. “So you two… This all started back… when? In Mitchell?”

“It was after Watertown, so that start of June in 1894.”

He continued on. “And you two made an agreement when?”

“That August up until December.”

There was another silence between them before he suddenly stated. “That’s why William hit him, right?”

She blinked at him in surprise. “What?”

“The night you two came back from Sioux Falls and he hit Marston. That’s why, ain’t it?”

Willing to be totally honest, she nodded. “Yeah, that’s why.”

“I knew you two was close,” he began thoughtfully. “But I didn’t suspect you was _this_ close.”

“Neither did I,” she agreed somewhat bitterly. “But it did happen and I don’t want you not knowin’.”

“Well… I don’t rightly know what to say.”

Maebh wrung her hands. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t exactly expectin’ much in a response.”

“It’s just a little weird for me,” he admitted, meeting her gaze for a brief moment. “Me and John, well, he was my brother.”

“I know and I was worried that it would make us—” She waved a hand between them. “—a bit uncomfortable for you.”

He let out a sigh and tried to explain himself. “Look, Maebh, I ain’t never gonna judge you for bein’ with people before us. I don’t work like that and you certainly ain’t done if for me.” He hesitated before adding. “But how do you… I mean, do you care for John?”

Such a simple question with a not so simple answer. Her feelings for John were always a tough thing to put into words. She didn’t even like _thinking_ about it let alone trying to explain it to someone else. “Look, I’m not goin’ t’lie. I care about John, I do. I’ve been friends with him since I joined this gang, so of course I’d care about him.”

“What I meant to say was do you love him?” Arthur shook his head. “I don’t mean to be blunt here, but if I’m just some sorta distraction and you’d rather be with him, then you need to tell me.”

“I don’t want’a be with him,” she insisted without hesitation. She tried not to cringe at how harsh her words were, but at least John wasn’t around to hear them. “I want’a be with you. I do love John but I’m not_ in love _with him. It’s completely different from how I feel ’bout you.”

He seemed to understand her but was still hesitant about it. Not that she was overly surprised by his reaction. He was a sensitive and self-deprecating soul, sometimes taking things to heart and loyal to a fault. He valued loyalty above anything else, so finding out that she was previously so intimate with John was an unexpected shock to the system.

“So if he was still in the gang,” he said. “Would it make a difference to you wantin’ to be with me?”

She was confident in her answer, far more sure about that than her actual feelings for her friend. “No, it wouldn’t make any difference. I know who I want’a be with and that’s you. What we had was only a casual thing and it doesn’t impact how I feel ’bout you. I understand that this is probably all a bit of a shock—”

“You could say that,” he snapped before realising what he had done. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound impatient. I just ain’t really had to deal with this sorta thing before.”

“I get that. You’ve a right to pissed about it.”

“It ain’t that I’m mad,” he tried to clarify. “But maybe you’d be better off with someone like John. I’m an older, ugly bastard who ain’t got much to offer other than a lot of baggage.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, Arthur. You sure as hell aren’t some old, ugly bastard. You’re one of the most carin’ people I’ve ever met… even for a roguish outlaw.” That made him chuckle a bit and she gently placed a hand on his knee. “I’m with you ’cause I want’a be with you and ’cause I care about you. John could come back here tomorrow and I’d only want for us to be friends again. D’you think I’d be stupid enough to let you go after finally havin’ you all to myself? I’m not that dumb y’know. It’s a different story though if you don’t want’a be with me—”

“I didn’t say that,” he cut her off and looked at her intently. “That ain’t what I’m sayin’ and it ain’t how I feel. I just need a bit of time to take this all in.”

She nodded slowly and pulled her hand away. “That’s fair. I won’t push you into sayin’ that we’re still okay.”

“You ain’t pushin’ me,” he whispered and reached over to place his hand on hers. He looked down at her fingers, idly playing with them. “But I need a little time to myself just to think about things. I’m not sayin’ that I’d judge you for who you were with before me, but I wish you would’a told me the truth back when I asked you if somethin’ was goin’ on between you two.”

“I’m sorry, I did mess up in that regard. If it’s any consolation, I really didn’t think it would go anywhere else after that.”

“I understand,” he replied, though he was clearly still miffed about it. “But uh, it would’ve been different if it was someone else, but it was John, y’know? Of all people, it had to be _John_. He was Dutch’s favourite as soon as he joined and I wasn’t the prized pony anymore, so I probably shouldn’t be all that surprised about this.”

Maebh wasn’t shocked that his self confidence was somewhat low after, well, _everything_. He had been through it and lost a lot along the way. All she could do was give him time and insist that she thought the world of him. “There’s no competition here, Arthur. Had I known that you felt the same way as me, I wouldn’t’ve hesitated and I think you were in the same position. I’ll give you all the time you need to process this, but I really, really care about you. I don’t exactly know how to put that into words, but I’ll spend ages showin’ you, if that’s what you need me to do.”

She waited patiently as he considered her words. The world outside his tent continued on, her brother still playing his fiddle as their friends requested music. The contrast between the joyful celebrations and the tense air within the tent wasn’t lost on her. Though she supposed she deserved it in some regard — this is what she got for getting involved with John, something that seemed to bring her more grief these days than pleasure. She managed to lose him, was lucky to not lose Abigail, and might lose Arthur depending on how he felt about it.

Arthur continued to carefully fiddle with her fingers, brows furrowed in concentration that she dared not interrupt. She had said all she needed to say, so whatever he wanted to do next was totally up to him and she would respect his decision regardless of what it was.

He took a deep breath, then looked up to run his gaze over her face. “I think I might need a little time to deal with all this. Time to myself, I mean.”

“Oh.” She tried not to sound disappointed and failed miserably. “Right, that’s fair.”

“I’m not sayin’ we ain’t together anymore,” he clarified and gave her hand a squeeze. “But I need time to process everythin’ and think about what I wanna do.”

There was no arguing to be had, even if Maebh didn’t have it in her to argue with Arthur. She had to respect his feelings on the matter and she would never force him into something he wasn’t comfortable with. It hurt to agree to it, to spend time away from him when their relationship was somewhat on the rocks. She spent so long pining after this unattainable man only to realise that he felt the same way about her. Now her past choices were coming back to haunt her. 

She squeezed his hand back. “That’s fair. You take all the time you need.”

“I’ll come to talk to you when I’m feelin’ up to it.”

She forced a smile, her teeth biting into her bottom lip as she met his eyes. “Um hmm. Of course.”

“Do you, uh—” He glanced around the tent. “—still want to sleep here, or—”

“I can give you space for tonight,” she said hastily, getting to her feet. “If that’s what you need.”

“Okay.” He scratched at the back of his neck, then repeated himself. “Okay. I’ll see you in the mornin’ then, Maebh.”

She retreated to step out from under the canopy. “I hope you sleep well, Arthur.”

“You too.”

Without another word, she hurried out into the night, coming to a halt on the other side of the canopy. She had to qualm whatever desires she had to storm back insist that she loved — yes, _loved_ — Arthur Morgan, that he had nothing to worry about, that she didn’t have eyes for anyone else. She felt so lucky to have this chance with him at all, unaware that she had already ruined it before it even begun. Well, _possibly_ ruined it. She had to stay positive about their relationship and hope that Arthur was willing to let it go. There was no doubt in her mind that she loved this man dearly, but she had yet to actually say those words aloud to anyone else other than William. Maybe when Arthur decided he was ready to talk to her, those words would hold more weight.

To her, John was gone, but any chance of their casual relationship continuing ended as soon as Abigail announced her pregnancy. Likewise now that she knew Arthur returned her feelings, she wasn’t thinking of being with anyone else. Trying to understand her complex emotions for John Marston seemed like a poor choice right now, and one she would rather avoid right now. She took one last look at his tent before forcing herself to retreat to her own. 

With a groan, she slumped down on to her bedroll, unwilling to start evaluating her feelings for John lest she realise something she didn’t want to admit. All she knew for sure was that she loved Arthur and she didn’t know what she would do without him.


	33. Love to Hatred Turn'd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur contemplates Maebh's confession and things come to a head with the O'Driscolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another chapter! I'm practically finished my commission work and had the best time, so hopefully my schedule will return to weekly updates. Thanks to those who wished me well with the commission! Fingers crossed it leads to bigger things sooner rather than later. Once I can spill more details, I promise I will.  
On another note, I've noticed something awesome about you guys, the readers. My comment to views ratio on this story is actually INSANE. I know that a lot of those comments are my replies to you guys, but I've never experienced this much reader interaction on a story before. It genuinely makes this whole story worth writing and I love reading your thoughts. I do try to take onboard what people say re: events and characters too. I just wanted to say thank you for consistently supporting me!  
Here's another instalment I hope you's enjoy. I can't wait to see your thoughts on this one so feel free to share them if you'd like ;) Happy reading!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “The Road to Ballyshannon” — The Scratch, “Oates in the Water” — Ben Howard, “Siúil, a Rún” — Clannad

** _25th April, 1897, outside Oracle, Arizona_ **

_I didn’t think I’d be writing these sort of thoughts after the bank robbery in Tucson. Everything went perfectly — beyond perfect if that’s possible — and yet it’s the morning after and I’ve barely slept at all. _

_Maebh told me something last night that hasn’t left my mind since. Long before we were ever a thing, she had a fling with Marston. _ _Marston__. Of all damn people, she had a relationship with John “the Golden Boy” Marston. Apparently they had some sort of secret physical relationship that ended once Abigail announced she was pregnant. While I can appreciate her honesty for telling me now, I can’t stop thinking about how she lied to my face when I asked her if there was something going on between them years ago. I know I don’t have a right to be mad about them doing that when we weren’t yet courting — hell, she even said that the reason she went off with him was because shethought she didn’t have a chance _ _with me__. But that’s not the part that keeps making me so angry. It’s just the very thought of John, a man who is my brother in everything but blood, being with a woman I can’t help but be in love with._

_How do I know she isn’t just lying about wanting me instead of him? What if they’re better suited for each other? Goddammit, Morgan. You are a fool when it comes to women. They all leave you, don’t they? You must be one sour bastard if all these relationships of yours end in such embarrassing failure._

_I don’t know what to do. I can’t get the thought of them together out of my head. Even though he’s gone I’m furious that he could have gotten to her first. Of course he has. All that time I wasted feeling sorry for myself when _ _he__was busy with _ _her__. I don’t think I can do this anymore, not when I know she lied to me. _

* * *

Arthur hadn’t slept a wink. Instead, he lay awake in his cot all night focusing on how much he wanted to punch John Marston in the throat. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Maebh had admitted to him last night, something he had no right to be angry about and yet he couldn’t help but be upset by it. The more he thought about it, the more his anxious thoughts swirled around and around his head. It only got worse and worse until he was pacing around camp or chopping firewood until his biceps were aching and his back begged him to stop.

He wasn’t proud but he honestly preferred breaking things off with her rather than trying to comprehend the fact that she would probably rather be with someone else better than him.

He laid the axe to rest against the tree stump, breathing in deep and feeling the sweat cling to the back of his shirt. With a heavy exhale, he looked across camp to see Maebh and William fixing up a broken wagon, talking in Irish as they worked away. Given their despondent expressions, he could guess what they were discussing. William’s presence almost made him hesitate before approaching her, but he _had_ to do this. He wasn’t about to go through another relationship only for it to end in failure because she wanted someone else.

He was already stomping across camp, boots heavy beneath him.

“Arthur!”

He halted in his tracks, looking over his shoulder to find Dutch and Hosea waving him over to one of the tables. He blinked and then looked back at Maebh. The siblings were staring at him curiously, his name being called having grabbed their attention as well. He met her gaze for a brief moment before he frowned and went in the opposite direction.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked the two older men before taking a seat.

Dutch tossed a letter to him. “Mr. Matthew was quick with this one.”

Arthur picked up the paper and read it aloud. 

_Dear Mr. Van der Linde,_

_Mr. O’Driscoll has called for an urgent meeting between you and _ _Eóghan_ _ in regards to the bank in Tucson. Unless you want more problems on your hands, I suggest you meet him at the abandoned shack where Tipperary Wash and Suffering Wash meet. It is north-east of your camp. We expect you there at 6 o'clock this evening. Feel free to bring your two sidekicks — Mr. O’Driscoll has a thing or two he’d like to say to them._

_If you choose not to go, expect the rest of your gang to suffer the consequences of your recklessness._

_Regards,_

_Matthew_

Arthur raised his brow. “Well, he certainly sounds a little goddamn sour.”

“What were you expectin’?” Hosea asked impatiently. “We robbed that bank after they told us not to. Of course they would react this way.”

“You wasn’t arguin’ when we brought back all that money,” Dutch challenged him, smoking his cigar. “Were you?”

“You know I ain’t one to fight you in excess, Dutch, but I also ain’t one to let people start dyin’ because of some Welshman and his boss who ain’t happy that we stole their take.”

“Can we trust them enough to meet ’em?” Arthur asked, leaning forward to rest his hands on the table top.

Dutch shrugged. “Who knows.”

“It’s not like we have much of an option.” Hosea reached over to point to a specific line in the letter. “If we don’t, they’ve promised to make the rest of us suffer for it. We’ll have to meet them to do damage control.”

“The spot he’s talkin’ is also a few hours away on horseback, so we’ll need to discuss this now before we head out later.”

“I’m assumin’ Matthew will be there,” Arthur said gruffly. “But we ain’t familiar with this Eóghan feller.”

“We certainly ain’t and that’s our first problem.”

“Why don’t we ask Pádraig about him?” Hosea suggested. “He helped us to get a better grasp of Colm’s character, so ain’t no reason why we can’t ask about Eóghan.”

“A very good point, Hosea,” Dutch agreed and then nodded to Arthur. “Would you be so kind as to fetch him for us?”

Arthur didn’t argue despite his bad mood. “Sure.”

He strolled over to where Pádraig was grooming the horses, purposely going a direction where he could avoid Maebh and William. “Wilson, Dutch needs to see you over by his tent.”

Pádraig was immediately skeptical. “Eh, yeah, of course. What’s it about?”

“Why you lookin’ so goddamn nervous?”

“It just sounds a bit serious is all.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, patience having worn well and truly thin. “Jesus… Just c’mon and don’t keep him waitin’. I ain’t in the mood to be your nanny, boy.”

“Clearly,” Pádraig said under his breath and hurried over to the table. “You wanted to see me?”

Dutch gestured for him to have a seat before explaining the current situation. Pádraig listened intently, nodding along with a thoughtful expression. Eventually, Dutch leaned back in his seat and took a long puff off his cigar. “So I need you to tell us what Eóghan is like, considerin’ we now have to go and deal with him face to face.”

“Right…” Pádraig frowned. “I already told you lot before that Colm isn’t the nicest. He definitely made my time with the O’Driscolls worse than it had to be, even if I only met him a few times. Eóghan is different. He isn’t as clever and maybe isn’t as mean, but he’d be quicker to violence than Colm would be. I heard he’s the type to kill first and ask questions later. Colm might be the boss but his brother isn’t necessarily one to be messed with. He does follow his brother’s orders when he has to. He doesn’t like doin’ it but he also doesn’t have much of a choice. He’ll do what he’s told but would definitely rather run the show himself. If he’s been told not to kill you then he won’t, but that doesn’t mean he might not get angry with you’s. He’s not the most reasonable man around here but he certainly won’t be there on his own. My guess is he’ll be with Matthew and one or two more men for back up, especially considerin’ they said you could bring Mr. Matthews and Mr. Morgan.”

Dutch contemplated his words carefully before asking. “Do you think it’s a trap?”

Pádraig shrugged his shoulders. “Your guess is as good as mine. I know that Colm is a lot more willin’ to lose men than you are, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s set his brother to kill you. My money would be on his willingness to at least hear what you’s have to say. I think he’d be more inclined to make you’s owe him. There’s no need for him to destroy the truce just yet.”

“No harm bein’ cautious then. It might be wise to bring a gun to cover us from a distance, just in case things go pear shaped.”

“But just as a precaution,” Hosea insisted. “There’s no need to make tensions higher than they need to be. If you insist on bringin’ an extra man, we could bring Mr. Hennigan. He doesn’t mind takin’ orders.”

Arthur would have protested the decision had Dutch not immediately agreed. “Good idea. We can set him up somewhere nearby with a rifle. He can keep us covered if things get out of hand. So, that’s the three’a us and William headin’ out later. I’ll be sure to tell Annabelle and Miss Grimshaw that they have to look after things while we’re gone.”

“I think it’s about the best we can manage given the situation.”

Arthur merely went along with it. “Sounds good to me, I guess.”

Dutch breathed out a plume of smoke and then replied. “We leave in an hour, fellers. Best prepare yourselves for an interestin’ trip.”

* * *

Arthur wasn’t entirely sure if ‘interesting’ was the right word for it. 

The trip up to the abandoned shack was unnerving, half of it filled with tension between him and William. Neither of them were willing to mention the elephant in the room, choosing instead to wisely focus on the task at hand. Dutch and Hosea went over the general plan a few times — keep things calm and rational, try not to anger Eóghan, and try not encourage Matthew’s general fuckery. 

He was definitely _not_ in the mood for this.

They made their way through the countryside, the land harsh and severe compared to Oro Valley back down south. Wildflowers and cacti were their only company in the desert, the heat of the late afternoon sun beating down on them as it grew closer to the western horizon. It was mostly flat land for miles around, meaning that they would need to find the perfect spot for William to keep an eye out.

With the abandoned shack in the distance, their horses were brought to a halt next to a small hill that was shrouded in shrubbery and bristly bushes.

“William, get that sniper rifle of yours and wait here,” Dutch ordered him calmly. “You keep that scope trained on us through the windows and fire at the first sign of trouble.”

William was already hopping off of Banquo and leading him into the thick brush to hide. “Consider it done.”

They left him there, pressing on and crossing Suffering Wash. The shack lay on the land between the two rivers, three horses hitched outside.

“Looks like they’re already here,” Arthur noted. “We good to head in?”

Hosea nodded. “Better to get this over sooner rather than later.”

“Just remember the plan, fellers,” Dutch reminded them, bringing The Count to a stop. “And we’ll be in and outta here in no time.”

Arthur followed their lead, hitching Boadicea and assuring her that he wouldn’t be long. The three of them entered the shack, and immediately noticed the three figures inside. The only one Arthur recognised was Matthew. He stood still in the centre of the room, arms behind his back and shoulders straight. He was staring directly at them as they entered, a grin hiding beneath his moustache. Another man he didn’t recognise stood by one of the windows, repeater in-hand. At a table in front of Matthew, another man sat with an impatient expression. He had a thick, grey beard, a hooked nose, and large, dark eyes. More grey hair fell from beneath his hat and he immediately stood as they entered the cabin. He was stocky with a barrel chest and based on Pádraig’s earlier description, Arthur guessed that this was Eóghan. He wondered whether he was as dumb as he looked.

“Gentleman,” Matthew greeted them in his sing-song voice. “You took your time.”

“I do believe we are right on time, Mr. Matthew,” Dutch replied calmly. “Six o’clock, as requested.”

Matthew continued to smile, completely unfazed. “One would assume that you would be more eager to discuss the breaking of a truce, but here we are.”

Unwilling to take the bait, Dutch gestured to the stocky man at the table. “You must be Mr. O’Driscoll. I’m Dutch Van der Linde. These are my associates, Hosea Matthews and Arthur Morgan.”

“I’ve heard about you three,” Eóghan replied, his gruff, Southern accent contrasting with his Irish name. He was surprisingly well dressed, sporting a black shirt with a green vest to match the O’Driscoll colours. “And ain’t much of it good.”

Arthur’s eyes trailed down and noticed the revolver in his hands. Immediately on edge, he gave Hosea a nudge.

“How’s that score you stole off’a us?” Eóghan asked them, shooting daggers already.

“That is exactly what we are here to discuss,” Hosea answered, arms raised up slightly. “There’s no reason to have any guns out. We came here to talk things out peacefully.”

“Yeah, that way you stole our take was _real’_ goddamn peaceful.”

The O’Driscoll by the window joined them quickly, repeater aimed between them. “Keep your hands away from your weapons!”

Arthur’s heart began to beat faster, the atmosphere in the shack turning almost immediately. The only man visibly unbothered by it all was Matthew.

“As far as I was aware,” Dutch began, voice steady. “This was meant to be a civilised meetin’ between men of likeminded thought. We both want to live free and we need each other to achieve that.”

Eóghan all but growled in response. “Says the man who stole from me!”

That was when Matthew chose to finally intervene. “Gentlemen, can we control our tempers, please? As Mr. Van der Linde so gracefully put it, we are here for a meeting, not another bloodbath. Even if I would love to start some _fun_, we’re here on business and I would rather not waste my time talking to—” He haphazardly waved a dismissive hand at the three of them. “—this lot.”

Dutch remained calm and pointed to the third O’Driscoll. “If we’re here for conversation, then how ’bout you get your friend to lower his gun.”

Matthew shrugged. “Well now, I can’t exactly do that. _You_ are the ones who broke _our_ trust by stealing _our_ take.” He tutted as he wagged his finger. “Oh, Mr. Van der Linde, you know it doesn’t work like that. He’ll keep that on you and happily blow anyone’s head off who reaches for a weapon. Keep your hands where we can see them — simple as that.”

Alright, Arthur hated everything about this. After a harsh look from Dutch, he reluctantly showed that his hands were empty and kept his palms facing forwards. “Goddammit…”

“I believe congratulations are in order, Mr. Morgan,” Matthew continued on. “I hear that you finally ‘got the girl’, as they say. It is just such a shame that you were her second choice.”

Arthur didn’t even hesitate as he drew his pistol from its holster and aimed it at Matthew’s smug face.

Suddenly, two guns were trained on him and he struggled not to pull the trigger.

“Say somethin’ else about her,” he snarled, gritting his teeth. “And I will happily put a bullet between your eyes.”

Matthew smiled again. “No, I don’t think you will. Because if you do, you will be damning her and your entire gang.”

“Put the gun away, Arthur,” Hosea insisted, placing a firm hand on his shoulder as he became the voice of reason. “We’re here to talk and nothin’ else.”

Dutch added to the conversation. “You listen to him, son. Gun away, _now_.”

His hand shook, gripping the gun so tight that his knuckles went white. With a huff, he slowly holstered the weapon. “Goddamn sonsabitches.”

“So _polite_,” Matthew noted with amusement. “It is a wonder how you are such a ladies man.”

“Let’s talk,” Dutch cut in, looking between the three O’Driscolls. “Shall we? I’m sure that Mr. O’Driscoll would like to discuss the bank in Tucson so that we might repay our transgressions.”

The air in the shack was still dreadfully tense and Arthur’s heart hadn’t calmed amidst the stand off. The O’Driscolls still had two guns on them while he and his friends remained unarmed.

“I’m only talkin’ to you because Colm insisted on it,” Eóghan elaborated. “If we played things my way, y’all would be riddled with bullets right now.”

“Yes, yes,” Matthew hushed him. “Of _course_ they would, Eóghan. But we are playing by Colm’s rules today, and unfortunately for us, he specifically asked for no one to be killed.”

His words seemed to have Eóghan’s cheeks flushing red. “So Colm’s word is law as per usual.”

Matthew suddenly leaned close to the other man and began whispering into his ear. His voice was far too hushed for Arthur to make out, but he stared skeptically at the pair regardless. Whatever he was saying, Eóghan didn’t appear to agree, shoulders tensing the more he spoke. After a moment, Matthew leaned back slowly and grinned. “You know what to do, Eóghan — follow big brother’s orders like a good boy. I hate to leave before all the fun, but Mr. O’Driscoll urgently needs me back at our camp.”

As he picked up his hat from the table and place it on his head, Hosea questioned him outright. “So soon? I thought Colm would rather have you around for negotiations?”

“As I’ve told you before, Mr. Matthews, I have far more important things to do rather than trailing after you lot through whatever shithole you’ve commandeered for yourselves. Eóghan here knows what to discuss with you and I will leave him to it. Hopefully he doesn’t mess it up and we don’t see each other any time soon. Good day to you, gentleman.”

Without another word, Matthew all but glided out the door and into the Arizona desert. There was a silence in the shack for a few minutes, Eóghan’s fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically while everyone stared.

“Shall we?” Dutch asked, breaking the silence.

“We shall on _my_ time, Mister,” Eóghan replied. “Now explain to me why you still robbed that bank when you knew we was gonna do it ourselves.”

Dutch glanced at Hosea before he started to talk. “If I’m bein’ honest with you, friend, it’s because we were quite stuck for money. Our supply was runnin’ low and we needed a big take to keep us goin’. I have mouths to feed, people that rely on me. We got a young boy that needs our help to survive. The way I saw it, we could pay you back with a job or helpin’ you on another take. Whatever you need, we’ll do it.”

A devilish smirk slowly spread across Eóghan’s lips. “Right, so you just figured that you’d steal from us first and pay us back later? I see how it is.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Hosea added. “You can understand that as a leader of all those men.”

“I don’t break agreements to do it. There in an honour there between men like us but you don’t seem to care much about it.”

“Oh we care,” Dutch said, standing firm. “Choosin’ between our truce with the O’Driscolls and the wellbein’ of my family was no easy task.”

“_Family_,” the O’Driscoll scoffed, running a hand along his beard. “That’s one big difference that sets you apart from my brother — he don’t get attached to his men. _You_ on the other hand call them your sons, love ’em like they was your own kin.”

“They are. Maybe not by blood, but that don’t make a difference when I can trust them to have my back and I have theirs. We both have the same endgame here, Mister, just slightly different methods.”

“I ain’t so sure if they’re all that different…”

Arthur’s gut was telling him that something was very wrong. This Eóghan feller seemed like he was about ready to explode, his tone shifting between scathing and judgemental. Nope, he didn’t trust him one bit and he didn’t like the position they were in. The only consolation was that they outnumbered these men four to two. They may have guns on them, but they had their own sniper hidden amidst the brush. Even still, the way this man was talking made Arthur feel anything but comfortable.

“Y’know me and my brother rarely get along,” Eóghan said casually, control teetering on a knife edge. “We rarely agree on anythin’ and he’s a bit more of a talker than I am. Me, I kill first and ask questions later. But as Matthew said, we have to play by his rules. He wants me to talk to y’all, reach an agreement that you’ll assist us on a number of jobs as repayment. Unfortunately for you, I ain’t in a compromisin’ mood.”

The door to the shack suddenly slammed open. Arthur whipped around to see another O’Driscoll coming inside. His gaze widened when he realised William was being dragged along too.

“Well, well,” Eóghan declared brusquely. “You didn’t think we’d see your damn sniper posted nearby? We ain’t stupid, Mr. Van der Linde!”

William had been disarmed and, judging by the swelling already forming on his forehead, had received a hefty blow. “Get your bleedin’ hands off me, ye shitebag!”

Dutch immediately went into damage control. “Now hold on a minute there—”

“I’ve given you enough time,” Eóghan snapped, pistol drawn and aimed at William. “And frankly, I’m sick’a dealin’ with you already. I’m startin’ to think that my brother’s rules ain’t best right about now.”

“There’s no need for bloodshed,” Hosea said, stalling for time as he tried to talk him down. “Let us go our separate ways and we’ll pay you back with those jobs you mentioned. No one needs to die.”

“Ya see, that’s where I think you’re wrong. I think you should die for wastin’ my time. Matthew ain’t in charge and Colm sure as hell ain’t here to have his say. _I’m_ in charge here! Eóghan O’Driscoll and no one else, and I say that you and your goddamn gang should _burn_ for goin’ against us!”

“Take your hands off the kid,” Arthur insisted, hand slowly moving to his revolver. “You let him go and we’ll talk this out!”

Arthur suddenly found himself staring down the barrel of Eóghan’s gun, his eyes wild like a mad man. “Hands where I can see them, you rat! You move so much as an _inch_ and I swear I’ll take pleasure in fillin’ you full’a lead! You don’t get to talk with me no more. I told Colm in the first place that he shouldn’t’a given you the goddamn time of day, but he chose Matthew’s word over mine. So now _I’m_ gonna make the decision, and I say that you can all go to—”

A shot rang out in the shack.

Arthur watched as a bullet soar through Eóghan’s head, send the man tumbling to ground.

“Oh, _shit—!”_

William struggled with his captor, forcing the man’s gun upwards as he shot through the roof above. Without thinking, Arthur took out the O’Driscoll with the repeater, narrowly avoiding a bullet that missed his side by inches.

“Kid—!”

Before anyone could react, William managed to wrestle the gun from the O’Driscoll’s grasp and blew his head off with a sickening splat. Out of breath, he slumped to the ground, muttering profanities under his breath. “Jaysus Christ, ah shite…”

Smoke slowly billowed from Dutch’s revolver, barrel still aimed at the spot where Eóghan had once stood. Arthur stared between him and the three dead bodies in disbelief. “Dutch—?”

“We didn’t have any other choice,” Dutch said without missing a beat. “You heard what he was sayin’.”

“We could have tried to deescalate the situation,” Hosea all but yelled, checking that the O’Driscolls were definitely dead. “Goddammit, Dutch!”

“I didn’t have any other choice!”

“And what the hell is gonna happen when Colm hears about how you killed his brother?”

Arthur rushed to William’s side, helping to pull him to his feet. “You alright? You hurt?”

William shook his head. “Other than that big aul lump on my forehead, no. That fella jumped me outside before I could even react.”

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. “We need to get you back to camp. I’m glad you’re alright. The last thing I wanna do is give your sister another reason to hate me.”

Despite the severity of the situation, the younger man rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t hate you, ye eejit. She loves you. Do I have to spell it out for you or somethin’?”

“We need to leave this place _now_,” Hosea stated, cutting through their conversation. “We don’t know if they’ve got more men in the area.”

Dutch agreed though he seemed to care very little about what he had just done. “Arthur, William, let’s do as Hosea says and head back to camp.”

With one last glance at Eóghan’s dead body and the blood slowly pouring out of his forehead, Arthur stepped back out into the Arizona desert, contemplating his brush with death and what inevitable consequences would surely follow.

* * *

“Pacin’ won’t make them come back any faster, Maebh.”

Abigail was right, but that didn’t mean Maebh was about to stop. “I can’t help bein’ worried. Arthur didn’t even say goodbye before he left.”

Back at camp, the rest of the gang waited for the boys’ return. Night had fallen and hours had passed so they were due to return any minute, but this didn’t stop the nagging feeling in her head from constantly grating on her. 

Abigail was, as always, level headed and trying to keep her calm. She spoke in a quiet tone so that she didn’t disturb a sleeping Jack. “He’s probably still put out about you and John. You want my advice? Just tell the idiot that you love him and if he still wants to avoid talkin’ to you after that then let him. Men can be goddamn stupid but Arthur cares about you — he just needs a kick in the ass to remind him of that.”

Before they could continue on with any sort of discussion, Javier announced the mens’ return. “Everyone, they’re back!”

“How’d it go, Dutch?” Annabelle asked, already rushing to meet them along with the rest of camp.

“Not good,” Hosea said shortly, dismounting from Silver Dollar. “Tell ’em, Dutch.”

Maebh set her eyes on William and rushed forward as soon as she noticed the bruising on his face. “What the hell happened to you?”

“O’Driscolls,” he replied casually. “I’m fine, it’s just a bump. It won’t kill me.”

Reverend Swanson seemed skeptical in his sober state. “What happened at the meetin’?”

“Nothin’ good,” Dutch muttered grimly. “Things got out of hand and I shot Eóghan O’Driscoll, Colm’s brother. It was either them or us — I didn’t have any other choice.”

Maebh listened in shock as Hosea quite honestly disagreed. “I beg to differ but we’re in this situation now and we need to keep everyone safe.”

“What about Matthew?” Mac asked.

“Still alive, presumably on his way back to Colm as we speak. He wasn’t there for the standoff but we don’t know how much time we have before they realise what happened.”

“We need to leave before sunrise,” Dutch added, rousing shocked expressions from several of the gang. “Ain’t no time to argue ’bout it. We head northwards and we keep movin’. We can settle down in places for a few days at a time when people need rest, but we gotta put as much distance between us and the O’Driscoll Boys as possible. Mr. Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, get to work please. Everyone, pack you things! We need to be out of here within the hour if possible.” He paused, looking between everyone intently. “I know times seem uncertain, but know that we will get through this like we have everythin’ else. That bank robbery has gifted us with enough money to manage travel for the next few months, so I don’t want anyone worryin’ about supplies. We will _all_ be fine, but I need everyone — _everyone_ — to stay with me. The only way we’re gettin’ out of this is together. Now, Mr. Wilson, do me a favour and step forward.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Maebh stayed close to her brother as she saw Pádraig step out of the crowd with little hesitation. “I’m right here, Mr. Van der Linde.”

Dutch placed his hands on his hips and stood tall. “Indeed you are. Did you send word to those O’Driscolls, boy?”

Pádraig was visibly shocked, eyes blinking in disbelief. “_What?_ No, I didn’t. Word about what?”

“We had William posted nearby as cover should anythin’ go wrong, and yet they found him and subdued him before he could do much in the ways of helpin’ us.”

“I didn’t say a word to them, I swear!”

Dutch took a few steps forward, his voice dropping to a threatening degree. “You _sure_ about that?”

“If I went back to the O’Driscolls,” Pádraig began in a desperate attempt to explain himself. “They’d happily kill me! Matthew would probably take pleasure in doin’ it himself. I didn’t betray you!”

Though his words didn’t seem to convince Dutch, Annabelle was quick to step in. “He’s been in camp ever since you four left. There’s no chance that he could’ve left to warn the O’Driscolls. We would’ve seen him go.”

Davey backed her up. “She’s right, Dutch. We’ve been here all day waitin’ for you to get back and so has he.”

It was true. Maebh could happily agree with what they were saying. She completely understood Dutch’s anger, but throwing it at Pádraig seemed like misplaced frustration more than anything else.

Unwilling to totally admit fault, Dutch simmered down and the tense atmosphere slowly dwindled. “I’ll take their word for it. Everyone, get packin’!”

There wasn’t any time left for discussion. Everyone immediately got to work and soon the caravan was heading east towards Oracle, following the road that would veer northwards once they passed the town. Maebh rode next to William who had been eerily quiet since his return.

“How’s your head?” she asked him in concern.

“Bar bein’ a bit melted and havin’ a slight headache, I’m fine.”

“You’re just very quiet is all.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, steering Banquo down the road as Dantès trailed behind them. “I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about what went down back there.”

“What happened? I never got a chance t’ask properly back at camp.”

William clenched his jaw and he recounted the tale of what happened out in the desert. She was all ears as he spoke and even after as he began to announce his worries. “As I was lookin’ down that rifle’s scope, the whole thing didn’t sit right with me. That Matthew fella, he’s… not good news.”

“I can agree with you on that.”

“You don’t understand,” William said in a low voice. “It’s awful convenient that he managed to get out of that shack before there was a standoff. He was bein’ antagonistic as usual, but he didn’t do much to help the situation in there. Eóghan seemed like a hothead, but Matthew insisted on keepin’ us alive. That’s what Colm wanted.”

“So Eóghan went against his brothers orders by tryin’ to kill you’s?”

“Yeah. I know they don’t like each other but it still seems like a reckless thing to do.”

“So why do you think it might have somethin’ to do with Matthew?”

“Right before he left, he was talkin’ into Eóghan’s ear. Apparently none of the others heard what he was sayin’, but he was whisperin’ somethin’. Based on what Eóghan was sayin’ when they dragged me into the shack, I think he was tellin’ him to do as Colm says. I feel like maybe he was eggin’ him on and purposely tryin’ to rile him up so that the whole thing would end in a confrontation.”

Maebh furrowed her brow but wasn’t about to scold her brother for his theory. “So you think that Matthew set you’s all up? Like he was tryin’ to get you’s killed?”

“Maybe. I’m not exactly sure yet but it’s a possibility. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“Well I can’t argue with you there.”

Their conversation was abruptly cut short when Tilly rode up to ask William if he was okay after the altercation. Maebh made a mental note to talk to him about this again once they stopped somewhere to have a rest. She supposed that he was right though — Matthew had always been a shifty character and an accusation like that wasn’t unreasonable. 

All he had done was cause them problems but would he willingly try to get them killed? Surely if they had foiled his plan, his wrath would be inordinate. Only time would tell. 

* * *

** _1st June, 1897, outside Parley's Park City, Utah_ **

_We’ve been on the move for over a month with breaks here and there along our travels. Things within camp are sometimes strained. We’ve never really been this nomadic before and the looming threat of the O’Driscolls is making people antsy. We’ve had no contact with them and we’ve no clue if they know where they are. Right now, we’ve settled in a place in Utah called Parley's Park City. Its green and mountainous land is a stark contrast to the desert we’ve been travelling through for weeks. It’ll do for now at least. _

_Along our travels, Dutch recruited an Austrian man he had met some years ago. With the gang its least stable in a long time, he thought it would be a good idea to get an accountant to look over our books and Herr Strauss was apparently a perfect choice. I’ve heard talks of a loan sharking business to keep funds up when we finally manage to settle somewhere more permanently and I don’t exactly know how to feel about it._

_Things with Arthur are, well, the same? Which isn’t a good thing. He hasn’t actually talked to me about whether we’re even in a relationship anymore. He mostly stays away from me and I don’t want to deny him, but I’m also sick of keeping my feelings to myself. With the constant threat of the O’Driscolls looming over our heads, I feel like I’m wasting time by not saying anything. I know he needs time, but I’m not exactly sure how much we’ll have left._

_I love that man and he deserves to know before he makes his choice._

* * *

Things weren’t easy, Maebh was certain of that.

Since they left their camp at Threeway Gulch, tensions were somewhat high and uncertain. It had been a while since she had had a restful night’s sleep, either worrying about O’Driscolls or Arthur. One of those things was completely out of her control, but she _could_ do something about the other. 

It was nighttime at their camp outside Parley’s Park City when she finally worked up the courage to approach him. He was sitting at the scout campfire with Uncle, methodically making different types of arrows for the next time they needed to hunt for fresh meat.

Once she was next to the fire, she announced herself. “Arthur, can I talk to you for a sec’?”

Uncle was on his feet surprisingly quickly for someone with terminal lumbago. “I’ll get out of your hair while you two have your lovers’ quarrel.”

With the old man gone, Arthur looked up at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “Sure. Have a seat if you want."

Trying to banish that jittery feeling in her gut, Maebh sat down on the ground next to him and clasped her hands together. “Look, I’m just gonna say what I have’ta say and then I’ll leave you alone, but please just let me get this out before answerin' me, alright?”

He nodded slowly, uncertainly. “Alright, go ahead.”

With a deep breath, she started to reel off her honest thoughts about them. “All of the stuff that happened back in Arizona has got me thinkin’. Times are really uncertain and I don’t really know what’s goin’ to happen to us. All I know is that we might’ve got some crazy gang comin’ after us for what we did and I don’t know how it’ll end for us. I’m sick of wastin’ time by not just sayin’ how it is. I missed so much by not tellin’ you how I cared about you in the first place and I don’t want’a have any more regrets.

“Whatever feelin’s you have after what I told you ’bout me and John are completely valid. I completely understand why you’d be upset considerin’ how close you and him were. As you’ve said, you’re brothers. I don’t blame you for bein’ surprised or uncomfortable or even mad at me for lyin’ to you, but I need to stress that one of the main reasons I became intimate with him was ’cause I was hopelessly pinin’ after _you_. _You_, Arthur Morgan. It sounds dumb and it certainly wasn’t the only reason why we started our relationship, but it’s _true_. I don’t know how I can stress that all of it originated from my feelin’s for you. Which, if I’m bein’ honest, are far deeper than I ever thought they’d be. I’m in love with you, truly I am. I don’t know how long it’s been goin’ on, but I realised it a long time ago.

“I’m not goin’ t’sit idly by anymore and let you traipse through life without knowin’ that. If you still don’t want me even after hearin’ that, that’s okay, it’s your decision, but I wanted to be as honest as I could when I say that I really, really want’a be with you. You can trust me. Who I was with in the past doesn’t matter to me — I want to be with _you_ and no one else. We’ve both been through a helluva lot in our lives and I’m not about to let one of the finest men I’ve ever met slip through my fingers without tellin’ it like it is.” She paused, looking back at him with a small sigh. “So there, do whatever you want with that information. I’m sorry for any hurt I’ve caused you and I promise to make it up to you if you let me.”

She looked away, exhaling heavily as her head got woozy. That was _a lot_ to be admitting so quickly and she needed a moment to steady her breathing.

From her left, Arthur’s calm voice called her name. “Maebh?”

“Hmm?”

His fingers lightly grasped her chin and turned her head to face him with the upmost care. She barely had a chance to get lost in his eyes before he leaned forward and kissed her softly. It was tentative and shocking all at once. After a few seconds of internally freaking out, she relaxed and kissed him back, relishing in the sensations she had missed out on for over a month. As their lips parted, he let his forehead rest against hers. She grinned like an idiot, eyes shut in genuine delight.

“What was that for?” she asked after a comfortable silence.

He shrugged and grinned at her. “I just missed doin’ it, is all. I’m sorry for not talkin’ to you. It ain’t easy for me to talk about how I feel. Maybe it’s somethin’ I can try improve on. I guess I was gettin’ bogged down with the wrong things. If we’re both bein’ honest then I should admit that I love you too and I’ve missed havin’ you by my side.”

“You _do?_ God, that’s a relief!”

Her reaction made him chuckle and he reached over to place his hand on top of hers. “I missed you, Maebh.”

Without any hesitance, she wrapped her fingers around his palm. “I’m missed you too, Arthur. I really want’a make this work if you’re willin’ to give us a shot.”

“I’m willin’,” he assured her. “It might be nice to have some happiness with everythin’ else goin’ on. Things ain’t easy right now, but maybe we can make them easier together.”

The relief that consumed her was quite the feeling. She gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “Together. Sounds like a good idea to—”

Shouting from the other side of camp cut their conversation short. Both of them stood to see what all the fuss was about. Maebh’s mind immediately assumed that it was O’Driscolls — as was always the way these days — but suddenly it became apparent that they weren’t the cause for disruption.

Karen, who was on guard duty, strutted through camp with a repeater in her hands and a figure following after her. “Dutch! You best get out here!”

Beside her, Arthur gasped. “Sonuvabitch…”

Before Maebh even realised who it was, Karen announced it for all to hear. “John is back!”

She hadn’t recognised him because of his scrawny appearance and the long, greasy hair that covered his head. Only when she met those familiar brown eyes did she believe Karen’s words.

The Golden Boy had returned.


	34. John's Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns to the Van der Linde Gang and finds himself in a tense situation with several of his old friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaahh heyis. I'm very excited about this chapter and I'm four whiskeys in so excuse me. It's a long boi at nearly 8,000 words (I apologise) but I can't wait to hear what you's think. This is a not so subtle request for you's to leave any and all thoughts in the comments (PLS) because I cannot wait to see the response to this. You's know I'm a sucker for emotional turmoil ha. Thank you as always for the continued support - it truly keeps me going when I question whether people enjoy this little story. I hope you's are ready for a shift in perspective... Apologies in advance for any missed mistakes. Enjoy! 
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Far Away” — José González, “Allowed to be Happy” — Gustavo Santaolalla, “Mountain Air” — Cody Francis, “Beyond the Pines” — Thrice

He was in a dingy saloon in southern Colorado when John heard about the bank robbery in Tucson.

The more details he heard about the job — the nun, the quick execution, the lack of casualties — he knew that it had to be his old gang. He left to find them the next day.

John’s time spent away from the gang had been mostly nomadic. He didn’t settle down in any one place for long, choosing instead to get any work he could in a town before moving on to the next place. Guns for hire were always needed and he didn’t disappoint. He had even resorted to bounty hunting on occasion. It was harder to rob rich folks when you were a one man team, but he made due when he could. When he wasn’t trying to make money, he was either busy feeling sorry for himself, trying to pluck up the courage to hire a working girl, or drunk. 

Or all three.

He looked like shit. Even he would admit that. Had he been looking after himself? Not particularly. Personal hygiene had gone out the window along with his self respect. His hair had grown out in long, greasy tendrils that had seen better days. He had gotten even skinnier if that was possible but not from a lack of food. He could still hunt when stuck for money — even if he wasn’t the best at it — but found himself completely unmotivated to actually _do_ it.

He mostly slept under the stars, setting up a small camp and hitching Applejack safely nearby. He hated staying in hotels because it reminded him of Maebh. A lot of things seemed to remind him of her actually, and it was beginning to grate on him. He was ashamed to admit that he had resorted to satisfying himself with hazy memories and his shaking hand on more than one occasion. Abigail was right, he _was_ pathetic. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that neither woman deserved someone like him. Jack deserved a father that he could never be — he wasn’t father material, and he didn’t seem like husband material either. Whatever hopeful imaginings he had involving him and Maebh were a distant, unattainable thought. He sorely wished they were true but they simply never would be.

On a couple of occasions had he actually managed to pay for a prostitute, only to be consumed with guilt afterwards. He had originally thought that he was a free man but was he really? His thoughts constantly trailed back to his old family, to Dutch and Hosea, to Arthur, to Abigail and baby Jack… to Maebh. He wasn’t sure who he felt worse about — the mother and child he had abandoned because of his own cowardice, the men who had raised him like their own, or the woman who still seemed to consume his thoughts. He had planned to stop thinking about the lot of them but failed miserably. The distance between them seemed to make little difference — he still cared. Some pathetic part of him even missed William Hennigan… It was verging on embarrassing.

He rode to Arizona only to find out that he had already missed the Van der Linde Gang. He tracked them for weeks, trailing through settlement after settlement trying to find out where they were gone. When he reached Utah and finally heard word of a group settled outside Parley’s Park City, he breathed a sigh of relief. Upon hearing a description of them from a local general store owner, he realised it _had_ to be them. The sun had already set when he tracked them down to a spot next to Shadow Lake, hidden between the trees and the lake’s shoreline. Applejack slowly trotted down the trail while John’s thoughts ran wild.

_How big would Jack be now?_ he wondered. _Is he better off without me as his daddy? Is me comin’ back only goin’ to cause him problems? Does he miss me? Does Abigail miss me? Does Maebh still care about me? Surely she does at the very least. I’ve missed her._

He didn’t know what he was expecting when he showed his face again. He supposed he should have been prepared for the animosity.

“You look like shit, John,” was the first thing Karen said to him as she realised who was coming into camp.

“Good to see you too,” he muttered defensively. “Do you greet all visitors like this?”

The blonde woman sighed, signifying her unwillingness to argue with him. “You’ve been gone for a goddamn year — what did you expect?”

“Alright, I suppose I deserve that much.”

“Look, it _is_ good to see you. I’m glad you’re back, but the rest of them ain’t gonna be happy about it. As far as they see it, you abandoned Abigail and your son, as well as the rest of us.”

Karen wasn’t wrong. The air in camp was tense and icy as she led him into the thick of it. His heart was pounding, worried about too many things to really focus on anyone around him. He quickly shooed Applejack away to join the other horses and continued on foot. He was too nervous to search for familiar faces around the area. When she announced his arrival, he cautiously glanced to his right and immediately met a familiar pair of green eyes. 

He stopped dead in his tracks when he laid eyes on her. Suddenly he was back in Nevada a year ago, desperately trying to get her to leave with him. Now, she stood not far away, looking at him with blatant disbelief and shock.

Whatever hope he had that his feelings might have dwindled over time were shattered when he saw her again. Somehow, Maebh Hennigan still made his knees weak.

_Well… shit._

He hadn’t even realised that Arthur was standing next to her until he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and whispered something to her. If looks could kill, he’d be a dead man.

_Well… even bigger shit._

People were coming out of their tents to see what all the fuss was about. He felt judgemental eyes on him and nervously danced back and forth on his feet.

Dutch was the first one out of his tent, followed closely by Annabelle behind him. Hosea came next. He was even more relieved to see them than he thought he would be. God, he was scared — terrified of what they would do to him. Would they turn him away? Leave him for the wolves? Shoot him to make an example?

The smile that slowly formed on Dutch’s lips almost made his eyes well up. “My boy…”

“Dutch,” he greeted him awkwardly, looking down at his feet. “I’m… I’m sorry. I had no place else to go and I… I missed…”

Dutch was in front of him in an instant, large hands placed comfortingly on his skinny shoulders. “There ain’t nothin’ to say, John. Ain’t nothin’ else to say other than it is good to see you.”

“You have’ta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me…”

Oh.

_Oh_.

He would recognise that voice anywhere.

John turned his head to see William Hennigan storming towards him, his intent clear as day. The look in his eyes was the same one he wore right before his fist collided with John’s nose those few years ago. “You’ve got some nerve comin’ back here!”

The Irishman had gotten dangerously close to him before Maebh appeared within his vision, wrapping a hand around her brother’s arm. “_Don’t_, William—”

“Who d’you think you are?” William sneered. “Waltzin’ back in here like you haven’t been gone for a year? Like you didn’t run off like the deadbeat da you are?”

“What the hell do you want from me, Hennigan?”

“For you to _fuck off! _What the hell happened? You were doin’ so bloody well!”

“_William, enough!”_ Maebh said harshly, pulling him backwards. “Don’t even bother with him — he’s not worth the trouble.”

Arthur was there in a flash, standing on William’s other side. “You listen to your sister, kid. Don’t waste your time on this feller.”

“Settle down now, William,” Annabelle pacified him, using her gentle tone to try calm him down. “We don’t need to make this any harder for people than it already is.”

Dutch chose that moment to step in, his voice firm and offering no discussion. “There will be _no_ arguin’ in our camp, not tonight. We’ve been through enough in the last feel weeks and we ain’t about to start fightin’ amongst ourselves. I understand that a lot of you are probably angry at John for a lot of valid reasons, but he is a part of this family, has been for years, and he’s done right by us for most of that time. Ain’t none of you ever made a mistake that you had to learn from to grow and change? The main thing is that he’s back and I’m sure he’ll be doin’ right by us again like he always has. Ain’t that right, John?”

With little room for debate, John glanced between Dutch and Hosea before replying. “Yeah, sure.”

“Right,” Dutch said with a nod. “Then I want everyone to go back to their tents and get some sleep. We’ll be leavin’ this spot tomorrow afternoon as planned.”

With very little time to get a good swing in, William chose his words carefully instead. “You stay away from me and my sister. You hear me? I’ll be lookin’ for you to give me an excuse.”

Arthur was whispering in Maebh’s ear again, their close proximity making John frown. He had no idea what he was saying, but the way he placed his hand on the small of her back had him seeing red. Whatever he was saying she seemed to agree with him.

“_Éist léis le do chuid amaidí,_” Maebh said under her breath in their native language, tugging William gently to their tent. “_Tar anseo_.”

William huffed, flipping John the bird before snarling. “_Gura féis ic faelaib do chorp!”_

She cast one last glance at him before she ushered her furious brother away. 

John didn’t speak a lick of Irish bar his failed attempt at bedroom talk, so he had no clue what William had just said to him. Even though the words were lost on him, the tone was not. It was certainly nothing good. 

Hosea stood by his side and tried to reassure him with logical thoughts. “He’ll come around eventually. Just give him time.”

“I don’t know about that,” he replied. “I’m pretty sure I ain’t welcome ’round here.”

“Everyone needs time. It’s been a year, John. People won’t just forget about you leavin’ right off the bat. You have to work for their forgiveness.”

“That’s comfortin’…” 

Sensing his anguish, Dutch decided to focus on the positives. “You found us at a good time. Had you left it another day, you might’a missed us.”

John shook his head in surprise. “Y’all movin’ on already?”

Hosea answered his question. “We’ve got a couple of folks on our tail that we’re not lookin’ forward to seein’ again. We can explain it all to you tomorrow. It’s too late in the night for serious discussions.”

“Well then I’m lucky I wasn’t late, I guess. Thank you, Dutch, Hosea. I mean it.”

The warmth that Dutch offered him was welcome change from the loneliness he had known for a full year. “Ain’t nothin’ to thank us for, son. Ain’t nothin’ at all. You got your bedroll? Set it up in my tent in the meantime. We still have your tent but there’s no point settin’ it up before we move out tomorrow.”

Before John could thank them again, another familiar voice could be heard on the night air. “Is it true? Is that no-good fool back?”

_Oh, Christ._

She was on him in an instant, fists clenched and shoulders tense. Her red rimmed eyes caused his stomach to twist. “Abigail, I—”

“You _stupid_ man,” she said through gritted teeth. “You goddamn fool, John Marston. Where the hell you been?”

Whatever happiness he felt upon seeing her again was immediately washed away with her vicious greeting. “Well it’s nice to see you too.”

His response set the tone and she responded in kind. “Too busy off whorin’ to be a father to your son?”

He spoke before he realised how much he’d suffer for it. “That’s rich comin’ for _you_.”

Abigail actually took a step back, her head jerking backwards in shock before she hardened again. Just like his happiness, whatever concern she had for him disappeared instantaneously. “Is that how you talk to me?”

“For god sake, John,” Hosea groaned, stepping between them. “Keep your mouth shut, will ya?”

“This ain’t no time for talkin’,” Dutch agreed before turning to Abigail. “Miss Roberts, my dear, you let us deal with him for the moment. You two will have plenty of time to discuss your situation in the mornin’. You go get some much needed rest. Arthur, will you escort her back to her tent?”

Arthur, ever the chivalrous man, offered Abigail his arm. “Sure. C’mon now, Miss Roberts. Let’s go make sure that lil Jack is alright.”

“I’ll go too,” Annabelle added, wrapping a comforting arm around Abigail’s shoulders. “I think we’d all feel better with a bit of sleep under our belts. It’s been a long couple of weeks.”

Abigail didn’t accept Arthur’s arm, but she allowed them to guide her away from the confrontation. John admittedly felt a little guilty as he watched her go back to her small tent alone, a little sleeping bundle drawing his attention. He momentarily faltered at how big Jack had gotten before he was overrun with anxiety yet again. No more words were shared that night. No one in the gang came to greet him. Instead they merely watched him from their tents, unwilling to even speak their mind or feign joy. Like sulking dog, he slunk away to Dutch’s tent with his tail between his legs. 

A restless night on his bedroll was in store, though he supposed he probably deserved it. His return hadn’t felt like a relief to be amongst his old family as he previously assumed. Instead, he felt like an unwanted stranger in a place he was no longer welcome.

* * *

Things didn’t improve when morning came. John has been in and out of sleep for the whole night and when he awoke, he felt like he hadn’t gotten any rest at all. Groggily stepping out of Dutch’s tent, he looked around the camp. It seemed like most of the gang were already up and about and barely any of them paid him any mind. With little to do, he wandered over to the shoreline of the lake and occupied himself by whittling. He hadn’t been there long when he heard approaching footsteps and nervously raised his head to see Javier approaching him. 

Ever the calm and collected man, he offered him one of the two bowls he was carrying. “Morning, John. I figured you would need something to eat before we head out.”

With a genuine thank you, John accepted the bowl and was quite happy when his friend took a seat across from him. “Has the cookin’ improved at all since I left?”

Javier snorted. “What do you think?”

“I’ll take that as a no. Can’t blame a guy for hopin’.”

“No, I can’t.” He eat a spoonful with little complaint and John followed suit, surpressing the urge to crinkle his nose. Seeing his discomfort, Javier continued on. “So, how does it feel to be back?”

John frowned. “I wasn’t exactly expectin’ a hero’s welcome, but I also wasn’t expectin’ for everyone to hate me.”

“We don’t all hate you. I just think people need time to adjust. A lot of us were, well, hurt when you left and didn’t agree with your choice. I’m not going to lecture you about it because it’s not my place but they’ll come around. Give them time.”

“Yeah,” John began bitterly. “That’s all I keep hearin’.”

“What did you expect? You ran off on Abigail and your son—”

“_If_ he’s mine.”

“You’re not still pushing that idea, are you?”

“O’course I am.”

“Look, I haven’t known you as long as a lot of folks here, but you’re still my brother. We’re Dutch’s Boys through the good times and the bad. I wish you’d be a little more honest about Jack but I’m just happy to have you back.”

John genuinely appreciated his welcoming attitude and though he never really had the right words to express himself, he tried his best. “Thanks, Javier. It’s nice to know at least someone ’round here is glad to see me.”

“Give them time. I know a few people that really did miss you.”

“I doubt it.”

“Whatever you say. I gotta ask though — what exactly was it that brought you back?”

John tried to consider his words carefully, several things coming to mind. He felt guilty and ashamed for abandoning Abigail even if he felt like no one cared for what he wanted at the time. She deserved better than that and he didn’t believe he could offer it to her. Jack deserved a good father and he sure as hell wasn’t any good at that. With his spoon in his mouth and salty stew on his tongue, he caught sight of a pair of figures walking along the shore. He perked up at the sight Maebh and then frowned when he realised Arthur was with her. They were carrying fishing rods and a bag, chatting as they picked a spot not far away from him. Neither of them even looked in his direction, something that bothered him more than he wished it did.

Javier followed his line of sight and laughed. “It took them long enough, huh?”

John blinked and turned to him. “Huh?”

“Maebh and Arthur.” Realisation dawned on his face. “Oh, right. That happened while you were gone.”

“What happened?” he demanded.

“They’re together now, as a couple. It wasn’t too long after you left that they made it official.”

John could feel his head getting lighter, all the colour draining from his face as he listened to Javier’s words.

_Arthur and Maebh? Together?_

He didn’t want to believe it even if the outcome was inevitable. They had been dancing around each other for so damn long. He wanted to kick himself for ever leaving, for ever giving them the opportunity to do so. He knew he had no right to feel so territorial over her but he couldn’t help himself. For a brief time she had felt like his and now Arthur had his hands on her. He stared at them as they cast their lines out, Maebh helping her new lover on his technique as they laughed at his lack of fishing skills.

_Oh, God. Are they sleepin’ together too?_

John shook his head, unwilling to fall down that infinite black hole of utter despair. He couldn’t think about Arthur seeing her in the same intimate light he once had. It was too much. There was still a foolish part of him that was secretly hoping that maybe Maebh returned his feelings, that she would jump into his arms upon seeing him again. Instead, he was rewarded with her completely avoiding him and apparently courting Arthur.

_Life is goddamn brutal…_

He shouldn’t have been so surprised. Maebh was too good of a woman to not be snatched up at some point. Not only was he too cowardly to be a father and a husband, he was too cowardly to actually tell her how he really felt. Did he even _know_ how much he cared about her? Sometimes he could barely understand his own feelings let alone explain them to the object of his affection.

“Sorry,” Javier suddenly said, pulling him out of his self pity. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

John looked at him in slight confusion. “What?”

“Must be tough,” he explained. “Looking at them when you and Abigail aren’t getting along too well.”

“Oh, right.” He allowed his eyes to wander back to her, glaring when he realised how she was focused solely on Arthur. She used to look at him like that, or at least he hoped she did. “Yeah, it is pretty tough.”

Whatever comforting words Javier had to offer were cut short when John heard his name being called. Javier looked over his shoulder and winced. “Oh, I think someone is looking for you, brother. I should leave you two alone.”

John realised too late what the hell he was talking about. Javier was already strolling away with his stew in hand as Abigail appeared in his vision, walking over to him in a confident stride.

“John,” she began, her voice already grating on him, added insult to injury as the weight of all that had happened fell on his shoulders. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

He felt his rage building as she stood over him. In the corner of his eye he could see Arthur and Maebh laughing together as he reeled in a rainbow trout. John watched as she placed a kiss on his cheek, then promptly lost his reason.

“_No_, Abigail,” he snapped, abandoning his breakfast and standing up to confront her. “I’m busy. Just… leave me alone, will ya?”

Abigail was stumped once again by his harsh response but he couldn’t find it in him to humour her right now, not while he was having his wrong choices rubbed so hard in his face. “So this is how you talk to me now?”

“What do you expect?” he replied, voice raised. “I’ve been back for less than a day and all you’ve done is nag!”

Now she was shouting too. “So what, I’m just supposed to welcome you back with open arms after you run off and left me to raise _your_ son alone? Is that how it’s supposed to work, John?”

“You goin’ on and on sayin’ that boy is mine _ain’t_ gonna make me believe you. What, you couldn’t pawn him off to one of the other fellers while I was gone?”

His words hit her pretty hard based on how her eyes suddenly welled up. “What the hell did I do to deserve this kinda talk?”

He was instantly transported back to that night when she told him she was with child. Red filled his vision, reliving that feeling of hopelessness and frustration as she came between him and Maebh. His gaze flitted to the object of his affection and that was enough of a trigger for him. “What did you _do?_ You ruined my goddamn life, that’s what you did!”

Abigail was stunned but she wasn’t stupid. She immediately noticed who he was looking at and her face hardened. Her tone was sarcastic and biting. “Of course I did. How selfish of me to choose to get pregnant and stop you from whorin’ your way around camp!”

He faltered for a brief moment, feeling the accusation in her words. Did she know? “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ ’bout. I don’t know what you heard, but—”

“She told me _enough!_ You’re pathetic! You’re a goddamn pathetic, Scotch piece’a shit!”

Her hand made contact with his cheek before he could even react. The hit made his head spin, lurching backwards as he tried to regain his composure. She was already storming away, leaving him with a stinging cheek and a damaged ego.

“Don’t I know it!” he called back after her, but she kept walking, leaving him to deal with the result of their confrontation alone.

Eyes were on him once again and he foolishly dared to looked back at the lake’s shoreline. Both Maebh and Arthur were staring at him, the latter smirking while the former was visibly perturbed.

Trying to ignore their inquisitiveness, he sat back down on the ground, hiding beneath the brim of his battered, grey hat. No one approached him, not when he had managed to upset Abigail so deeply. He had been there for a while when he noticed William approaching the happy couple. John watched curiously as they started a pleasant conversation, William appearing very comfortable with Arthur despite his involvement with his sister. He was casually smoking a cigarette as he praised them for their catch, picking up the sack of collected fish and bringing it to Mr. Pearson’s wagon to be stowed. John couldn’t help himself — the happy interaction had his blood boiling and he was on his feet storming after the younger man before he could think about doing otherwise.

William had already handed Simon the bag of trout and was standing around the back of the wagon when John reached him.

He spoke in a whisper, making sure that no one else heard their conversation. “What the hell, Hennigan? All the shit you put me through when it was me but you’re cool with Morgan?” 

William looked at him with so much indifference that it only made John more angry. He took a drag off his cigarette, blowing smoke in his face. “Well yeah, I _like_ Arthur.”

John huffed out a bitter laugh. “So I ain’t good enough for your sister, is that it?”

William smirked, highlighting the scar that ran from his brow to his cheek. “Did you think you were? Piss off, Marston. You and her were never goin’ to work and thank God she came to her bleedin’ senses before she had to birth your greasy spawn.”

As William went to stroll by him, John shoved him backwards, forcing his spine to connect with the wooden wagon. “I ain’t done talkin’ to you, you little Paddy shit.”

His stupidity caused William’s expression to shift immediately. Any resemblance of harsh jesting was replaced with the same wild look he wore last night. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from me _and_ my sister? Do you need me to remind you?”

The quick and forceful shove that William gave him in return caused John to stumble back. He was a good fighter, a scrappy and vicious rival, but William was an even match, ruthless to his enemies and more than willing to get dangerously violent when opposed.

“C’mon then,” William taunted him, stance wide and back straight. He tossed his cigarette on to the ground. “I told you I was lookin’ for an excuse. Oh, is Little Johnny Marston jealous that my sister doesn’t want him anymore? Are you upset seein’ her with someone else? It’s your own fault for thinkin’ she even loved you in the first place—”

John charged, his harsh words the straw that broke the camel’s back. 

He tackled his opponent to the ground, managing to get one good punch in before he received one back, right in the same place that Abigail had already struck him. William was a good fighter, aggressively striking John with everything he had while happily taking the punches he was returning. 

The rolled over the dirt, each of them taking control before the other one claimed it again. John could feel his lips splitting against his teeth as William hit his right in the mouth with little concern. It was a flurry of pent up emotions, finally spilling over into a rough and messy fight.

Distant shouting cut through the noise of their clash and suddenly William was pulled off him and John was dragged backwards. 

Arthur was holding on to William as he fought against his hold. “Leave it be, kid! Calm the hell down.”

“I told him to stay away from me,” the younger Hennigan explained. “And the thick bastard didn’t listen!”

Bill was the one who had pulled John away, helping to haul him to his feet. Feeling the aching already consume his face, he wiped a trail of blood away from his mouth, redliquid staining the back of his hand.

“He deserved it,” John snapped and spat blood. “He’s always runnin’ his damn mouth!”

“Knock it off!” Hosea said, quickly joining the throng and glaring at them with everything he had. “What are you, a pair of animals or men? Go cool off, John! I don’t want either of you near each other while we pack up the camp.”

“_Me?”_ John asked, pointing at the other man. “He started it!”

“I gave you enough warnin’,” William replied. “It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to understand what I’m sayin’ half the time.”

Maebh forced her way through the crowd, brushing by John so that she could reach her brother. “_Cad a dúirt mé leat? _Are you alright?”

As her brother assured her that he was fine despite the cuts and bruises on his face, the look she sent John caused him to falter. Shaking himself out of Bill’s hold he stumbled away, never feeling so ashamed until she had looked at him like _that_. It stung more than any slap or any punch he had received that morning.

* * *

It wasn’t too long after the fight when John found himself riding Applejack at the back of the caravan, the gang having packed up and abandoned the spot beside Shadow Lake to continue their journey northwards. He hadn’t said a word to anyone else and nursed and cleaned his wounds alone.

When Hosea eased Silver Dollar into a trot next to him, John had expected a scolding conversation, but instead his tone was mostly gentle.

“How’s your face?”

John glanced at him, relieved to hear he wasn’t reprimanding him. “It’s been better but I’ll be fine.”

“You’re only back and you’re already causin’ a stir.”

He laughed at that. “That’s one way’a sayin’ it.”

“You owe Miss Roberts several apologies,” he said matter-of-factly. “Several _honest_ apologies.”

John sighed bitterly, glancing at her riding on the back of a wagon with young Jack. “I know.”

“And I would say that you owe Mr. Hennigan one too but I doubt you’ll actually own up to that. Look, John, far be it from me for interfering in your business, but things have changed since you left. Whatever you had goin’ on with Maebh before isn’t open for discussion right now for a number of reasons.”

He grimaced as the words left Hosea’s mouth, looking at him guiltily. “You knew?”

“Given how you grew up together and were always close, it’s not entirely surprisin’ that you might fall in love with one another.”

“_Love?”_ John repeated in disbelief. He shook his head, forcing out another laugh. “No. No! We ain’t— I mean, I don’t _love_ her.”

“I’ve lived on this earth long enough to know a pair’a lovesick kids when I see them. You were always such good friends, but I wondered whether there would ever be a little _more_ goin’ on. I had my suspicions of course, but your reaction since you’ve returned and her reaction when you left only confirmed them. It’s not _that_ hard to tell with the way you look at her and the way she looks at you.”

“She don’t look at me like anythin’. Not anymore.”

Hosea eyed him sympathetically as their horses rode alongside each other. “As I said, things have changed. Her and Arthur are in a good place right now after denying the truth for so long, and whatever feelings she has for you — whether she’ll even admit them to herself or not — have shifted. I’m sure she loves you, but she also loves Arthur.”

“Course she does,” John agreed bitterly. “Just my damn luck.”

“It’s not like any of you have a choice in the matter. Love is a funny thing but a beautiful thing none the less. It makes life worth livin’. If you love her, you’ll let her be happy. Now, you might’a missed your chance with Maebh but that doesn’t mean that both of you won’t find love elsewhere. She’s found it in Arthur and if you really do love her, you’ll let her be happy with him and you’ll stop goin’ around camp startin’ fights with her brother.”

“What do you expect me to do? I come back to find out that everyone hates me after what I did.”

“No one hates you, you imbecile. We were all hurt that you left. The reason they’re reactin’ this way is because they care about you. Miss Roberts loves you — god help the poor girl — and you should do right by her. Now I know you care about Maebh, but you care about Abigail too. You need to do right by her and the boy.”

John knew what he was talking about even if he was unwilling to admit it. “What the hell you mean?”

“You might’ve missed one opportunity to be with a woman you love, but you can make somethin’ out of the family that you already have. Be a man, John.”

The conversation was cut short as Hosea fell into a fit of coughing, using a handkerchief to cover his mouth while trying to control himself. John hesitated at the sight, drawing his horse nearer so that he could pat his back.

Hosea’s words rang in his ears for the remainder of the day, even when the caravan stopped within the woods so that everyone could get some rest. At that stage, Dutch had filled him in on their conflict with the O’Driscolls. It was disheartening to hear but he wasn’t entirely against it. He always hated that Matthew bastard, so doing anything that caused him problems would always receive a stamp of approval from John. That being sad, he was unaware that things would be this unstable upon his return. It wasn’t the most comforting thought.

He had approached Abigail in her tent as Jack was sleeping. He tripped over his words but forced himself to get out a convincing apology for what he had said that morning and the night before. Hosea was right that even if he felt hard done by, Abigail wasn’t at fault. He didn’t have it in him yet to apologise for running off or to explain his reasons for doing so, though it seemed like she didn’t have the energy to talk about it either. She seemed exhausted, though that was probably due to raising a toddler on her own. Understandably, she didn’t exactly give him the time of day, but she did accept his apology. It seemed like a start though he didn’t expect much else to come from it when things were so uncertain. He promised to explain himself at a later date and she didn’t fight him on it. The conversation was a surprising relief and he missed the times when he and Abigail weren’t at each other’s throats.

Most of camp was asleep when he found himself sitting alone by the fire, a feeling he was now beginning to get used to. Staring into the flickering flames, he was surprised as someone took a seat across from him. He almost fell over when he realised it was Maebh.

“Hey,” he greeted her awkwardly, mentally kicking himself for such a knee-jerk reaction. “Uh, I mean… want a cigarette?”

“Sure,” she replied quietly. He scooted around the fire slightly so that he could hand her one. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” He watched as she lit it off the campfire and sat a little way aways from her. The distance made the air awkward but neither of them moved to clear it. He chose instead to clear his throat. “How’s your brother doin’?”

“He’s fine. He’s got a couple of bruises but he’s been through worse.”

“Right, that’s good. I’m sorry for startin’ that.”

Maebh gave him an unimpressed glare. “I don’t think _I’m_ the one you should be apologisin’ to.”

He tilted his head a bit and cast a glance over his shoulder. “True, but it felt right to apologise to you too. Does Arthur know you’re here?”

“Yeah, he knows.”

He hesitated, uncertain of what to say. “Okay… Well, uh, what can I do you for?”

She scoffed at his question, breathing in the smoke deep before replying. “I haven’t seen you in a year and _that’s_ all you can say?”

He looked at her with a frown. “You didn’t exactly seem like you wanted to talk to me.”

“What did you expect?” she asked in disbelief. “For me to lay down for you as soon as you got back?”

“_No_,” he insisted, hurt by her insinuation. “That’s not… I didn’t expect that at all. Is that how you think I see you?”

“I don’t know how you see me,” she muttered. “I feel like I don’t know you at all, not after you abandoned all of us to run off for a year.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, I deserve that much.”

“I know you told me why you left but I don’t understand how you could think that none of us care about you.”

“Because what I want don’t matter,” he clarified, finding a small bit of bravery to be honest. “And now ’cause I left, I’ll never be able to have who I want.”

He dared to let his eyes rake over her and noticed how her shoulders were tense, the two fingers that held on to her cigarette shook lightly. He got the feeling that she knew who he was talking about — that he very much wanted her — but she still wasn’t in a position to openly admit to the obvious tension between them, or the tension that had been there for years before. However much he would love to pull her into his arms, Hosea’s words sounded in the back of his mind once more.

There was a lengthy silence between them before he managed to murmur. “Does he make you happy?”

She looked at him then, green eyes displaying the genuine sympathy that she was unwilling to admit out loud. He didn’t need to elaborate any further. She nodded with confidence and a small ounce of sadness. “Yeah, he does.”

He didn’t know what he had been expecting. He certainly knew what he had selfishly been hoping for, but if she was happy, who was he to argue otherwise? With a nod, he looked down at his scuffed boots, trying very hard to not meet her eyes again lest he lose whatever control he had. “Okay.” He cleared his throat again and repeated in a firmer voice. “Okay.”

Maebh was equally lost for words. “Yeah…”

“I ain’t about to make things more difficult for you,” he elaborated. “I’ve already caused enough problems ’round here.”

After considering his words for a moment, she said to him. “You can be happy too, John, y’know? You’ve a chance to make things right with Abigail and Jack.”

“Maybe. I don’t know how things will be between us.”

“Even if things between you and Abby don’t work out, you’re still that boy’s da. You’ve a responsibility there that you need to keep either way.”

He knew her intentions were good and he didn’t want to argue with her. After the awful fight they had before he left, he never wanted to experience being on the receiving end of her hatred ever again. He felt lucky that she was even giving him the time of day right now.

“I know,” he agreed. “I’m gonna try.”

“Good.”

“I’ve been meanin’ to ask you… You, uh, told Abigail ’bout you and me?”

She hesitated but eventually admitted that his assumption was right. “Yeah, I did. I felt guilty over you leavin’ so I spoke to her about what happened between us.”

“And Arthur?”

“He knows too. It seemed wrong to keep it from him now that he and I are together.”

John scratched at the back of his neck. “I was wonderin’ why he hasn’t spoke to me at all yet.”

“He was hurt when you left too,” she clarified. “We all were.”

“I missed you, Maebh,” he suddenly blurted out. He took a deep breath and managed to look into her eyes. “I did. Still do, in a way. I know it probably doesn’t mean much to you, but I missed just bein’ with you while I was gone. When I felt lonely and had no one to talk to, I wished I could be by your side again, to tell you how bad everythin’ was, to have someone close who actually knew me. You know those late night talks we would have? I missed them the most… missed _you_ the most. I’m sorry I hurt you. I know you said that I shouldn’t be apologisin’ to you, but you deserve that much.”

She was silent for what felt like the longest time while John tried to calm his beating heart. He sat there, nervously smoking on his cigarette to have some sort of distraction. If he looked at her for much longer, he would end up leaning in for a kiss and ruining every aspect of his apology.

Eventually, she composed herself enough to talk. “I’d like to be friends again eventually. I’m not there right now, but I’d like to in time.”

He tried really hard not to lose it, tried desperately to keep his breathing steady as he experienced some semblance of relief upon hearing her words. “Me too.”

“Okay.” She slowly pushed herself to her feet after a long moment between them where neither of them knew what to do. Despite what he was unwilling to admit, he really wanted to pull her back down into his lap and kiss her until they were both breathless. “I’m goin’ to head to bed before we get movin’ again in the mornin’.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice thick. “Alright. Thanks for talkin’ to me.”

“You’re grand. I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

After a brief and awkward silence between them, Maebh left him alone by the fireside and headed back to her tent. Once he was well and truly alone, John felt his self control slip. He pursed his lips together, teeth digging into his bottom lip as his eyes started to sting. Taking deep breaths through his nose, he tried to hold back the tears and failed miserably. John didn’t cry. He always saw it as a weakness that he shouldn’t express — something his father instilled in him before his horrid death. But now he sobbed uncontrollably as he sat alone by that fire until his throat burned and tears covered his cheeks. 

Hosea was right; he was so in love with her — so terribly in love with Maebh Hennigan — and he would never be able to act on it. Not now, not ever.

* * *

He managed to sleep surprisingly well that night, though he assumed to was because he was so worn out from his conversation with Maebh. The caravan was on the move once more the following morning, everyone ready for another day of travel.

John rode near the front of the line. Dutch sat at the head of a wagon behind him while Annabelle rode on his Arabian horse. They were passing through the Wasatch Range, heading towards the Idaho border and taking a trail through the mountain valleys with the promise that it would be less crowded. The trail led them through a ravine sheltered in fir trees when she appeared by John’s side.

“How’re those bruises doin’?” she asked with her signature kind smile.

He absentmindedly ran a hand along one bump that graced his right brow. “Sore but not so bad.”

“They’re lookin’ a lot nastier today.”

Her dry tone made him laugh. “You know how to do wonders for a man’s confidence, Annabelle.”

“I think so too. I’m not goin’ to say that you deserved it, but—”

“I deserved it?”

She grinned. “A little bit. It didn’t make me happy to see it happen though.”

“Well that makes one of the gang.”

His negative comment made her brow furrow. “They _do_ care about you, you know. Why do you think they were so upset when you left?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard not to think they don’t all hate me.”

She waved him off. “Come on. You and I both know that isn’t true. A lot of the people around here look up to you and Dutch says you’re one of his finest men. Do you think he’d let just anyone stroll back into the gang after leavin’?”

“Well…” He paused, seeing that she wasn’t wrong. “No, I guess not.”

“So quit _pouting_,” she insisted in a supportive manner. “Hold yourself up and stopmopin’ around. That won’t do you any good. The sooner you realise that a lot of folks around here love you, the sooner you can get back to bein’ your usual self. I was mad when you left too but I’m glad that you saw the error of your ways and came back. I’d much rather that happened over you stayin’ away forever, and I know everyone else would agree.”

“I ain’t so sure ’bout that.”

“Well _I’m_ sure, so don’t doubt me. It’s good to have you back with us, Mr. Marston, especially in such uncertain times. We need loyal folk like you now.”

John offered her a smile, genuinely appreciative of her attempt at comforting him. He was rather lucky that she and Hosea were willing to give him the time of day at all. “Thank you. Even if things are tough, it’s nice to be back.”

“We’ll be alright. I know Dutch feels more assured now that you’re back with us again.”

“I’ll help however I can,” he said firmly, giving her a sure nod. “I promise.”

Whatever response Annabelle had, John would never get a chance to hear it.

A gunshot crashed through the silence in the ravine. The unstoppable whizzing of a bullet traveled faster than his eyes could register, followed by the sickening splat as it connected with Annabelle’s head.

John felt blood splatter on to his face, sickening horror washing over him in a split second.

Someone — one of the women — was screaming bloody murder. 

Behind him, Dutch shouted some twisted, inhumane sound that resembled his lover’s name. 

The Count let out a frightened neigh as Annabelle’s lifeless body fell from his back and landed on the ground with a heavy thump.

The peace within the ravine disappeared in an instant and the gang descended into chaos.


	35. But Be the Serpent Under't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout of Annabelle's murder results in several conflicts and revelations for the Van der Linde Gang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy cowboys and cowgals! Sorry for the delay on this one - it was tough going for a bit. Hopefully it was worth the wait. Thank you as always to those who continue to stick around and share their thoughts about this story and its characters. You's continue to rock my socks on the daily. Apologies for any mistakes I missed in this one, but hope you's enjoy nonetheless!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Varúð” — Sigur Rós, “Unshaken” — D'Angelo, “I Can’t Tell My Secret Weapon” — Cheeseboxer, “Spot” — Jed Kurzel

Arthur had been chatting with Sean when the gun went off. The once peaceful ravine was quickly disrupted by the thundering noise, soon followed by Mary-Beth’s screams, Jack crying, Copper barking, and John yelling in panic:

_ “They killed Annabelle! They killed Annabelle!” _

The panic that erupted was like nothing he had seen, not in a long time.

“Get into cover!” Hosea was ordering above the throng. “Keep your heads down!”

Dutch was recklessly jumping off the wagon in an attempt to pull his lover’s lifeless body to safety, leaving a trail of red behind in the dirt. John’s face was covered in both shock and blood as he tried to get Applejack under control. Everyone was searching for their friends, trying to make sure that no one else suffered the same fate. Arthur caught sight of William and Maebh hopping off their horses and rushing behind one of the wagons. Others clambered inside or took cover behind tree trunks. 

Feeling rage boil within his chest, he quickly descended from Boadicea, ordering her to run to a safe distance and joined the Hennigan siblings behind the wagon. Maebh was already asking him if he was okay as they tried to register what the hell was going on. The relief he felt knowing that she was safe was almost frightening. If their lives weren’t currently in danger, he would have embraced her and never let go.

Arthur breathed in deep, pulling his rifle from his shoulder and making sure that its barrel was loaded. Anyone else with access to a gun did the same.

The silence that followed was possibly more deafening than the initial gunshot. No one moved, no one dared to poke their head out from behind cover lest they too get blown away. All he could hear was his own breathing and that of those around him.

The wind rustled through the leaves and birds began to chirp again.

Minutes passed and nothing happened. 

“Everyone okay?” Javier called out, his voice hesitant and concerned.

Once someone spoke, it seemed to set everyone off.

“What the hell was that?” Pádraig asked, but no one had the heart to answer,

“Eyes on the cliffside,” Hosea urged them, taking charge as Dutch cradled Annabelle behind a wagon. “Does anyone seen a marksman up there?”

Arthur took a peak, looking through the scope on his rifle to be sure. He ran along the terrain from where the bullet seemed to come but found nothing. “All clear.”

Bill and the Callander Brothers backed up his claim, finding nothing. Despite this, there was still no time for grief.

“Wait,” William said, pointing just above their heads. “What’s that?”

Seconds later, a white envelope fell from above and landed at Arthur’s feet. Ducking for cover again, he grabbed the letter while keeping his head down. It was addressed to Dutch in a hand that he knew all too well. He tore it open and read the script in his head:

_If you and your festering band of miscreants thought you could avoid the consequences of your actions, I’m afraid you are sorely mistaken, Mr. Van der Linde._

_Poor Annabelle. How unfortunate for her that you loved her. Mr. O’Driscoll hopes to witness your grief in person. All in due time, yes? Run and hide while you still can. It will achieve nothing, but makes the chase far more interesting for me._

He gritted his teeth, withholding the urge to crush the paper in his hand.

_That no-good sonuvabitch!_

Knowing that Dutch was otherwise preoccupied, he called out for Hosea. He waved the letter in anger and snarled out. “It was _Matthew!_ Matthew and those goddamn O’Driscolls!”

As the gang around them took in the news, Hosea snatched the letter and read it for himself. “We didn’t need a note to know that. He’s toyin’ with us.”

“When has he not toyed with us?” Arthur paused, trying to control his anger and spoke in a low whisper. “I told you takin’ a deal with those fools was a bad idea.”

“What choice did we have?” Hosea challenged him. “If you want to start playin’ Mr. Hindsight, we should never have robbed that goddamn bank.”

Arthur knew he was right and kept his mouth shut, eyes wandering to a mourning Dutch. Silent tears flowed down his cheeks as he held Annabelle in his arms. The gaping wound in her head was pooling blood as over his lap, eyes empty and staring at nothing. He was muttering under his breath in panic.

“Should we head up to the ridge?” Sean was asking. “And find those bastards?”

Hosea shook his head. “Ain’t no way you’re gettin’ up there from down here. It’s far too steep. And he’s long gone anyway. He only came here to kill one person.”

“So we agree that this was definitely Matthew?” Arthur asked him urgently.

“Yes. Matthew following Colm’s orders, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” he repeated with acid in his tone. “That bastard has been itchin’ to pull a trigger on us for a long time.”

“That he has. We need to move as quickly as we can, find somewhere safe for us to stay. Matthew always seems to know where we are and my bet is that he’s goin’ to play with us for as long as he can. But we can’t wait here like sittin’ ducks.”

“Ain’t none of us familiar with these parts. Where are we gonna go?”

Hosea thought for a moment before continuing. “The city of Morgan ain’t too far east. It wasn’t on our route, but we could send some folks in to ask about somewhere we could stay. Maybe an abandoned house or ranch, just _something_ until we manage to get these O’Driscolls off our tail.”

Arthur could imagine how grim his expression was. “Do you think we can shake ’em off?”

“We’ve gotten out of our fair share of scrapes before but I ain’t about to let us lose anymore people. No one else is gonna die and you can mark my words on that.” He quickly turned to address Pádraig and William. “You two, go get the horses under control! We’ll need to move out again soon.”

Placing his trust in the older man, Arthur agreed and quickly hurried to Dutch’s side, surveying the horrific sight before him. “Dutch? We gotta get goin’.” 

He was so used to seeing people die in his line of work, but he would never be able to handle it when it was someone he considered a friend. He sorely hoped that he wouldn’t have to experience it ever again. The emptiness in her eyes was a start contrast to how she had been in life; kind, always willing to help, _good_. Too good for this life.

Hosea was frowning and squatted down next to his friend. With a comforting hand placed on his shoulder, he calmly stated. “We need to get the rest of the gang to safety before they come back for us. The women and Jack, it ain’t safe for them here.”

The first thing out of Dutch’s mouth was what Arthur expected. “It was Matthew, wasn’t it? And Colm O’Driscoll.”

With a regretful expression, Hosea handed him the letter. Dutch was visibly shaken as he read the icy words, but still somehow had the mental wherewithal to realise that Hosea was right. He crumpled up the paper in his fist. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do, Hosea. Annabelle, she… I didn’t know they would—”

“None of us did,” Hosea reassured him. “But there ain’t anythin’ that we can do now. I think we should send some men into Morgan to find out if there’s somewhere we can stay nearby. We can always hide until things die down and then get across the border.”

“They’ll follow us,” Dutch replied with a sick realisation. “No matter where we go. I need time to think, time to plan somethin’.”

“We can send John and William into Morgan to investigate. We keep moving along our route as planned so that they know where to find us when they return. They’ll be able to move fast if it’s just them on horseback without any wagons to worry about.”

“How about we don’t separate Hennigan from his sister?” Arthur suggested, glancing back at them as he hurried to bring the horses under control. “Any O’Driscolls in town are sure to recognise him anyway. Marston should be able to avoid them with his new haircut. Maybe send someone they ain’t as familiar with.”

Though Hosea presumably knew where his hesitance was comingfrom, he agreed. “Javier, then. They shouldn’t recognise him as easily.” He turned to Dutch again and added sombrely. “We’ll have to make sure she’s buried, Dutch. Some place nice. Reverend Swanson, bring one of those spare blankets, will ya?”

As the reverend did as he was told, Arthur spoke up. “I can bury her somewhere nearby if you want me to.”

“We’ll both go,” Dutch stayed, leaving no room for argument. “Hosea, you continue along the trail with the caravan and keep them safe.”

Hosea nodded and helped them wrap Annabelle up in the blanket. “Of course.”

The two men stowed Annabelle safely on the back of The Count and fetched two shovels. Arthur did as he was asked, moving quickly up the trail with Dutch for a few minutes before finding a spot on the edge of a hillside, overlooking a wide plain below. When broke out of the thick trees, he squinted up at the midday sun and gazed around the large area of land.

“This is good,” Dutch announced, surveying the view with mild amazement. “I think she would’a liked this.”

Arthur nodded in agreement, already hopping off his saddle. “I think so too.”

He was never sure how to find the words to accurately express his reaction to death. Later on when he would get a chance to look at his journal, the words would flow from him like an unstoppable torrent. Here and now, he wasn’t certain which ones would pacify Dutch’s grief. He was at a loss. Never before had he seen Dutch lose a lover by such means and his mind wandered to the only comparison he had, flaring up ever-present yet dormant emotions that he would rather not relive. They didn’t rush their digging despite the circumstances, using the moment to briefly focus on Annabelle and only Annabelle. Dutch said very little, something that Arthur felt was unsettling and foreign. With a deep enough hole created in the soil, they lowered her into the grave as carefully as possible. 

Arthur stood over the open hole and looked to his friend. “You, uh, wanna say a few words?”

There was a long silence between them, only the sound of wind flowing through the grass filling the air. It was so exceptionally quiet, peaceful. It seemed hard to believe that a murder had occurred not long ago and a young woman had lost her life. Dutch stood over the grave, resting his fidgeting by his sides. He wrapped his fingers around the opposite wrist and took a deep breath.

“I usually write down my speeches,” he said, glancing at Arthur. “Those ones I say around camp after a successful job, or ones needed after a bad turn of events. All those times I’ve tried to raise people’s spirits since Eóghan, I’ve written them down as we were on the road, findin’ the right words that would give them hope. I think I’ve gotten better at it over the years, considerin’ how many I’ve made. But the worst ones will always be those about people who fell. It never gets easier, never does. Now I find myself truly at a loss for words. Out of all the things that could’a happened, I never expected to lose…” He paused, steadying himself with a thick gulp. “To lose _her_. She was so good-hearted, so loyal, caring. She wanted to help people and live free after the trials she had to go through. She wanted a new life and I led her to her death. I didn’t start this gang to lose people, I wanted to give them their freedom, save those who needed savin’. If I just let my family die — if I put them in those situations — how am I any different from Colm O’Driscoll?”

“You _ain’t_ Colm,” Arthur reassured him without hesitance. “You don’t send folks to their deaths like they’re just some number. You care about us. You said so yourself — this gang, we’re like family. You try to save folks and you take in kids off the street who need help. How can you compare yourself to Colm?”

“She’s dead because of _me_,” he got out through gritted teeth. “I should’ve done more to stop it.”

“She’s dead because Colm O’Driscoll gave the order and Matthew pulled the damn trigger. How the hell were you supposed to know that the bank in Tucson would cause all this? Annabelle wouldn’t want you to blame yourself and you know that. She’d want you to get the rest of the gang to safety.”

Dutch was silent again, but this time in defeat. He knew his words rang true — or at least Arthur _hoped_ he did. He knew it wouldn’t cheer Dutch’s spirits up right away and things would take time. Grief was such an ever-present thing, striking at moments when you least expected it and leaving you a blubbering mess.

“She didn’t deserve what she got,” Dutch said after a moment, looking up into the blue sky above. “Not one bit.”

“Of course she didn’t. She was a good woman.”

“One of the finest I’ve known,” he added, head lowering to look at the grave once more. “The finest woman with whom I’ve been honoured to share my life. I loved her dearly. I am gonna keep all those folks safe, Arthur. You, me, Hosea; we’re gonna look after all of them. The three of us know how unbearable this loss is. Ain’t none of them sons a’bitches gonna take another life, not on our watch. Not Colm, not any lawmen, no one.”

Arthur’s reply was firm. “We’re with you, Dutch, every step of the way.”

“You look after that girl o’yours,” he added with visibly sincerity. “Young Maebh… You both deserve as much happiness as you can find.”

“I ain’t gonna let anyone touch her,” Arthur stated with the upmost confidence. “You can be sure’a that.”

“No better man for it.” He lightly wiped a thumb under his eye and sighed. “Words fail me. Really — I don’t know what to say. I just hope that you’ve found peace, my darlin’.”

“She knows. Whatever words you can’t find or feelin’s you have deep down, she knows.”

“I hope so. Now c’mon, let’s get back to work.”

Together, they filled the plot up with soil again and placed stones atop the mound. A makeshift wooden cross was placed at the head after Dutch had carved Annabelle’s name into it. There would be more time for mourning later. For now, they stood in silence for a few moments and then mounted their horses to rejoin the caravan further down the trail.

When they met up with them once more the atmosphere was rightfully somber. People were visibly nervous and upset. Arthur noticed some of the women shedding tears as they huddled in the back of the wagon. Abigail was cradling her toddler, trying to banish his uncertain and confused expression. Despite his want to check in on Maebh, he was reluctant to leave a grieving Dutch’s side. She had William at least and Hosea seemed to have calmed them down as much as he could. John and Javier had also already been sent into town to investigate, and it wasn’t more than a couple of hours later when they returned with good news.

“We were in the saloon in town when we heard some men talking about a homestead in the mountains,” Javier explained. “He said we should find it within one of the forests along the trail up towards Monte Cristo Peak. Apparently it’s a known place for vagrants depending on the time of year.”

“It sounds like our best bet,” John added. “Ain’t much else around here that’s hidden.”

“That’ll do the trick,” Hosea confirmed. “You boys lead the way.”

The journey along the mountain trail was quite slow and thankfully without incident. It took a bit of searching, but they eventually spotted said homestead the barman had been talking about. It’s façade was hidden amidst a thick forest while its back looked out into an open plain and a stunning view of the western end of the range. Bill, Sean, and the Callander Brothers were sent inside to search the rundown premises. Thankfully, it was empty of any other inhabitants and everyone was happy to avoid another scuffle. Dutch was quick to ask that Miss Grimshaw and Mr. Pearson make this place their new temporary home. Everyone helped out, eager to get the homestead set up with their belongings. He figured that most of them just wanted a distraction from the loss of Annabelle. Most of them worked in silence, unwilling to voice their sadness or worry.

The house wasn’t overly large and there wasn’t enough rooms inside for everyone in camp. Tents were set up around the outside of the building for those who weren’t high enough in the rankings for a spot indoors. That honour belonged to Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, and surprisingly, John. Arthur was admittedly displeased to hear this considering John had only just returned from abandoning his family and the gang. Apparently, Dutch was far more forgiving than he was. There was, however, a catch — Abigail and Jack had to stay in his room too and John seemed quite perturbed with the fact.

As he was want to do, Arthur simply tried to ignore him while carrying a heavy box of ammunition into his room to store it with the rest of the supplies. 

John was standing outside having a cigarette when he noticed him struggling. “Want a hand, Morgan?”

Arthur answered without missing a beat. “No.”

He heard Marston let out a snort. “It looks heavy. Let me help you, ye big lout.”

“I don’t need your help.”

His tone seemed to make the younger man hesitant, but that didn’t stop him from following him inside. “I realised we haven’t had a chance to chat since I got back.”

“And thank God for that,” Arthur said dryly, carrying the box to the others in the corner of his room. “Of all the horrible things that have happened in the last couple weeks, at least I ain’t been listenin’ to what the Golden Boy has to say.”

Marston sighed, visibly trying to control his temper. “Look, I just wanted to ask if we was okay—”

The loud crash of Arthur slamming the box down cut him off. “Okay? _Okay?”_

“Well… I figured we wasn’t.”

“Oh, lookatchu usin’ your brain for once.”

“Do ya think you could maybe talk to me without being such a grumpy bastard?”

Arthur laughed bitterly and shook his head. “Oh, I see. You run off for a year, leavin’ your woman and child behind like they ain’t worth nothin’. Then you come back with your tail between your legs and expect me to just welcome you back with open arms?”

“Why the hell are you so concerned about my life?” John demanded. “What I do is none of your business.”

“You don’t deserve them,” Arthur said lowly, tone conveying the amount of anger he felt inside. Now that the floodgates had opened, he couldn’t stop himself. “You ain’t a father and you sure as hell ain’t gonna act like one. All that pissin’ and moanin’ you did about the boy not bein’ yours, he would’a been better off with a different daddy.”

“Like_ you?_” he countered scornfully. “Why the hell are you actin’ like we’re so different? You did the same thing—”

“Like hell I did! I didn’t run off and leave them for a year.”

“Forgive me for thinkin’ that visitin’ them every couple of months was any better.”

Arthur took a step forward. “You better watch what you say around me. William ain’t the only one lookin’ for an excuse.”

John was perturbed by that statement. “So you’re threatenin’ me now? All because I wanted some time to myself to goddamn think for once?”

“That ain’t _all_ you did.”

“Are you mad at me ’cause of Maebh?”

The mention of his lover sent a new wave a fury washing through Arthur’s body. “Maebh doesn’t have anythin’ to do with this. She told me what you two had goin’ on and all I can say is that she’s lucky it weren’t her who ended up with child. Hell, maybe you could’ve had two babies runnin’ ’round camp at the rate you were goin’. Typical Marston, the ladies man thinkin’ that all the women in camp wanna fall at his feet.”

John waved him off. “You ain’t got a clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“As a matter of fact, _I_ know how you’re feelin’ better than anyone in the gang. I’m mad at you ’cause you’re makin’ the same goddamn mistakes I did! And look where the hell that got me, where it got _them_.”

“That won’t happen to Abigail and Jack. They’ve got this whole gang here to protect them.”

“All it takes is _one_ slip up, _one_ bullet. Look at what happened to Annabelle with Dutch so close — with _all of us_ so close.”

“So this is it then?” John said in exasperation. “I just gotta deal with bein’ the outcast now? Dutch forgave me, Hosea and Maebh listened to me — why can’t you?”

“You lost my loyalty when you ran off and left us all in the dust. You don’t just get to stroll back in here like nothin’ happened. I ain’t about to control Maebh or tell her who she can and can’t be friends with, but me and you? We’re done.”

Arthur turned back around to the box, beginning to lay out its contents with little care. His hands were shaking and his breathing was heavy. He could sense Marston still behind him, eyes boring into the back of his head. Feeling his patience wear thin, he brushed passed John in the doorway and began to walk out into the hall. When the young man spoke up behind him, his voice was surprisingly soft. “But we’re brothers.”

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks, the words hitting him harder than he cared to admit. With a steadying breath, he turned back around to look John in the eye. “No, we ain’t. Not anymore.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, instead he stormed out on to the back porch of the dilapidated homestead. With quivering hands he placed a cigarette into his mouth and then struggled to light the match off his boot. He was about ready to toss the items into the field when someone placed a gentle and on his shoulder.

“Here, use mine.”

It was Maebh, cigarette hanging from her lips and holding a lit match in her hand. He carefully leaned in, allowing her to light his for him. “Thank you.”

“You want’a sit?” she asked, gesturing to the back step.

He eagerly joined her, sitting so that his side was closely pressed against hers. Around them, the camp was alive but hushed, people going about their business in a vein attempt to forget the events from earlier.

“How’re you feelin’?” he asked her after taking a long drag.

She shrugged her shoulders, pulling a hit flash from her inside coat pocket and offering it to him. “About the same as you, I’d imagine.”

He took the flask with a small smirk and sniffed its contents, the caramel smell of rye whiskey filling his nostrils. “I can’t say that I dislike your methods of copin’.”

“I thought you might appreciate it. It’s that Old Overholt we picked up a while back.”

He took a swig from it, savouring the burn on his tongue, then passed it to her so she could do the same. He looked out at the view, the late afternoon sun already colouring the sky in a fierce orange that momentarily distracted him from the day’s events. The air was so clear up there, so cool and refreshing.

He casually noted. “Some view.”

“Some view indeed,” Maebh agreed and linked her arm around his. “Is it bad that I wish we could stay someplace like this and not have’ta worry about the O’Driscolls or Colm or Matthew anymore?”

“No, it ain’t bad at all. I can’t say I would turn the opportunity down.”

“Imagine us ownin’ our own homestead, or a ranch even.” She let out a little laugh. “You could fulfil your childhood dream of bein’ a stableboy.”

That made him grin. “I can’t say I’d be very good at it, but if I have you by my side then I won’t be complainin’.”

She placed the flask back in her pocket. “I can at least guarantee you that much.”

He turned to admire her just as she let her head rest on his shoulder. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“I can’t stop thinkin’ about Annabelle,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve seen my fair share of dead bodies over the years, but I don’t think it’s been someone I cared about since my da was killed by those Pinkertons. It’s different when the eyes of someone you love have grown lifeless.”

“I understand. Unfortunately it doesn’t get any easier.”

“How could it? It feels bad sayin’ it, but I’m glad I was further down the caravan with William. I don’t think I would’ve been able to cope bein’ close to her when that happened, like poor John who had her blood on his face.”

He repeated her words bitterly. “_Poor_ John.”

“Have you two talked yet?” she asked, already sensing his displeasure.

“Unfortunately. Right before I came out here.”

“I assumed as much based on the big scowl you were wearin’.”

“I wasn’t in the mood to hear what he has to say.”

“You can talk to him whenever you’re comfortable.”

“I ain’t exactly sure if I’ll ever be comfortable with that. He abandoned his woman, his child, and his family. He left all of us with no intention of coming back.”

Arthur wasn’t exactly brave enough to express himself aloud. The most he had managed was that night around the campfire when everyone else was venting about how much they disliked Marston. It was one thing to write his thoughts down in his journal, but verbalising them to Maebh seemed too much to handle right now. He got the feeling that she knew how he felt despite the silence. Be didn’t yet have the strength to say that what John did had hurt him deeply.

“I know he did,” Maebh said. “But I also know that you love him like your little brother and you’ve been so close with him for years now. We both know you’d do anythin’ for this gang. Just give yourself time. If he makes an effort with things then you two can look into repairing your broken relationship. Never say never, even if he was bein’ an eejit.”

“Yeah, but he’s been a real’ _big_ eejit.”

“I had my moments when I was bein’ an absolute ham too. Maybe he can become better and actually make an effort with Abigail and Jack.”

“I think there’s a difference between mistakes you made and whatever the hell Marston got up to.”

Maebh gave him a look. “Are you forgettin’ that I managed to murder a bunch’a Pinkertons with my brother and subsequently ensured that we’d be runnin’ for our lives ’round Wisconsin?”

He paused. “Alright, I see your point.”

“I’m not sayin’ he hasn’t done _anythin’ _and I can assure you that I’m mad at him too. You have a lot more history with him than I do, so I can only imagine how betrayed you felt when he ran off. But if he manages to prove himself and make up for it, then I don’t see why we all can’t just get along. I haven’t completely forgiven him yet, but I know I’d eventually like to. A bit of normalcy could do us all good and what happened earlier has us all on edge. Things are all over the place.”

Arthur nodded in agreement. “We ain’t in the best spot right now, that’s for sure. But we won’t let what happened to Annabelle happen to anyone else. You have my word on that.”

“How’s Dutch?” she asked curiously. “I’ve never seen him like this before, not even when Bessie passed.”

“Neither have I,” he admitted. “He’s never lost a lover before, not like this. He’s not good — feels guilty for the whole thing and who can blame him? He thinks it’s his fault after what he did to Eóghan but it was either him or us. I was there — there was no way he was lettin’ us out alive.”

She let out a sigh, holding on to his arm tighter than before. “What a royal mess of things.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he tried to reassure her, remembering what Hosea had told him earlier. “We still got each other. Dutch is rightfully upset but he wants to protect the gang — we all do. He’s not sure yet whether that involves fleein’ from Colm or facin’ him head on, but we’ll do whatever we need to. I won’t let anythin’ happen to you or your brother.” He pressed a kiss into the top of her head, allowing himself to breathe in the comforting smell of her hair. “Do you wanna stay in my room with me? I know you usually stay with your brother but it would be nice to have you by my side after, well, _earlier_.”

“Sure. I don’t think William would mind one night on his own.”

“I mean if he’s real’ uncomfortable, he can always move his bedroll on to my floor? I don’t mind.”

“I’ll ask him,” she said with a small smile. “But regardless of whether he wants to, I’d definitely love to join you. I’d rest easier with you nearby.”

“Me too.” He leaned down to kiss her lips, finding a surprising amount of comfort in the gesture. “I’ve said it before but I really love you.”

“Hey, you can say it as many times as you want — I’m never goin’ to get tired of hearin’ it. I love you too, Arthur.”

Their brief moment of respite was cut short when the back door opened behind them and William stuck his head outside. “There you’s are!”

“What’s the rush, kid?” Arthur asked him.

“I arranged a meetin’ with Dutch and Hosea,” he explained hastily. “And they want you’s both there too. _Tar liom!”_

“Tar _what?”_

“We’ve to follow him,” Maebh explained and reluctantly got to her feet. “C’mon then.”

They trailed after the younger man and were led straight to Dutch’s room. William shut the door behind them, glanced out the windows, then turned to his four accomplices. “Sorry for the random meetin’, but I wanted to talk to everyone as soon as I could.”

“What’s goin’ on?” Maebh queried, casting a questioning look in Hosea and Dutch’s direction.

“The boy has an idea,” Dutch elaborated, sitting at a table in the centre of the room. He gestured for them all to have a seat and they willingly obliged. “Specifically about our dear friend, Matthew.”

“The Welsh prick? What about him?”

“I think I know what he’s up to,” William said eagerly. “And why he’s been such a jammy bastard this whole time.”

“Care to enlighten us?” Arthur asked, still hesitant to believe that they may receive some good news that day.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout how our encounter with Eóghan went down for weeks. What he said before he tried to kill us has been playin’ on my mind — _‘Matthew isn’t in charge’_. Not to mention what went down before I was caught out. Remember when Matthew was whisperin’ in Eóghan’s ear? Maebh told me after that he told Eóghan to listen to Colm’s orders _‘like a good boy’_, not to mention how he immediately tried to antagonise Arthur when you’s arrived. Then he runs off before things get dire? The whole thing reeks of suspicion.”

“The kid’s got a point,” Hosea commented. “Matthew even said he agreed with Eóghan and would much rather shoot us where we stood.”

Dutch pondered his words for a moment. “You think he was eggin’ him on?”

William nodded. “Absolutely! Matthew’s whole _thing_ seems to be causin’ trouble wherever he can. Don’t you remember when he first arrived at camp years ago? He started rambling about livin’ free: _‘You operate under the guise of helping people but you leave disaster in your wake everywhere you go. Who are you really helping? Yourself? At least I have the decency to admit it.’_He told us that we didn’t meet his standards of livin’ free. He doesn’t like us — at all — but Colm didn’t want them to kill us. If Matthew is meant to be loyal to Colm, why would he encourage a clash between both parties? I think he’s a shit-stirrer.”

Arthur grumbled under his breath. “That’s one way to put it.”

William sighed. “I’m bein’ serious. We don’t reach his standards — he’s _said_ this. We’re little gremlins that he considers to be below him. He admits that he is out here to live completely free and benefit himself. What if he doesn’t give a shite about Colm or the O’Driscolls? Sounds to me like he had his own intensions at that meetin’.”

“That would be a very _Matthew_ thing to do,” Dutch said, deep in thought. “It certainly matches his slimy personality.”

“Exactly. The O’Driscolls were the ones in charge goin’ into that meetin’. They could’ve easily ordered us to repay the debt ’cause they have more numbers than us. Hell, they could’ve used us to pull off an even _bigger_ job with a better payout. They were in the position of power — why would they suddenly decide to kill us when the arrangement has benefitted them up until that point? Even Colm — who is a renowned wanker — told him _not_ to kill us.”

“I think you’re on to somethin’,” Maebh said as a silence fell over the whole table. “Colm wouldn’t gain anythin’ from havin’ us killed but maybe Matthew gains somethin’ from this feud that’s begun. What if he’s out for himself? What if he doesn’t care about Colm either? He’s like the puppeteer in all’a this.”

Arthur thought intently on William’s words, realising that the kid was _definitely_ on to something. Nothing about the encounter had ever sat right with him and now it felt like the pieces were finally falling into place. “I gotta agree with the Fenians, Dutch. Matthew certainly never liked us and made it no secret either.” 

Hosea was also on their side. “Maybe this whole truce was just a ploy to reel us in before pullin’ somethin’ like _this_. I ain’t sure what exactly his intensions or motivations are, but I’ll be damned if this doesn’t seem plausible. I think we need to consider the truth behind it.”

“You’ve never steered me wrong before,” Dutch said with confidence. “And things now seem more desperate than they’ve been before. We’ve gotten out of low points before, but _this? _What they did to Annabelle?” He paused to gulp and shake his head. “I wouldn’t admit this in front of the others — I have to put on a brave face for ’em, but everythin’ that’s happened since Tucson has been our toughest outin’ yet. But as I’ve already told Arthur, I refuse to let anyone else die by Colm’s or Matthew’s hand.” Dutch looked to the Irishman and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “I trust your intuition with this, Mr. Hennigan. I can’t find any dishonesty or inconsistencies in your words. Maybe Matthew is the real _shit-stirrer_ here, as you said.”

While William seemed quietly proud of himself, Arthur agreed. “I think we best come up with some sort of plan to deal with this. Do you think we can somehow oust Matthew and get Colm on our side?”

Hosea shook his head. “You’re forgettin’ the fact that Dutch still killed his brother, and Colm had Annabelle murdered too. There’s no way the two gangs can come outta this bein’ friendly. It just isn’t possible, even if Matthew is usin’ him for his own gain.”

Dutch nodded his head. “We’ll need to discuss our next step in detail. Whatever our next move is, it should be chosen carefully. This conversation doesn’t leave this room, am I clear? We don’t need people to start panickin’ anymore than they already are. I’ll trust all of you to keep this revelation to yourselves and tomorrow mornin’ we can decide on our next step. For now, I’d like a brief moment to mourn.”

No arguments were to be had about Dutch’s request. As far as Arthur could tell, everyone seemed to need a moment to just breathe. They’d been on the move consistently for weeks, so a brief moment of relaxation in a safe spot could do them some good. At least the five of them had something to work with and something to discuss. Maybe with this new knowledge they could figure out a game-plan together. He was trying to stay positive, even at times when it felt impossible.

“There’s one more thing actually,” William said. “One more detail and then I promise I’ll shut my mouth. I don’t trust Pádraig, not after what happened with Eóghan.”

Dutch’s expression was tired and grim. “I can’t say I didn’t feel the same way when we got back to camp.”

“He was the only one bar us who knew exactly what my role was at that meetin’. Everyone in camp knew I was goin’, but he knew that I’d be posted outside with a rifle in hand. I was well hidden and when they found me, it seemed to me that they just knew I’d be there. I can put some of the things that have happened to us bein’ careless — like how Matthew found us back in South Dakota — but _this?_ It seems to convenient to me. Unless Matthew is some sorta supernatural, mouthy, all-seein’ devil of a man.”

“What do we do about him then?” Maebh asked. “Surely if we have a possible rat in camp then we need to be careful.”

“That we do, Miss Hennigan,” Dutch replied. “It saddens me to think that someone we extended our generosity to might betray us like this.”

Hosea was visibly perturbed by the idea. “It would make sense when tryin’ to figure out how they managed to find us today too.”

“Agreed. I think I might have a plan. Nothin’ too extravagant, but a plan nonetheless. Listen closely…”

* * *

A few hours after their meeting, nighttime had descended upon the mountains and the homestead delved into darkness. They kept the house dimly lit with candles and a few of the ladies asked to move their bedrolls into the unoccupied hallways and living room. They were all clearly afraid after what happened to Annabelle, and Arthur could hardly blame them.

For now, the whole gang gathered outside in front of the main campfire. Having been briefed with Dutch’s plan beforehand, Arthur stood on the edge of the gathering. Some of them sat on the various crates and logs while those who knew of Dutch’s plan kept a protective circle around them in case anyone chose to run. It was a simple idea, but it didn’t make Arthur feel any less tense about it. Never before had he staged a trap for someone in the gang. Pádraig had been with them for nearly four years and the idea that he might be conspiring to have them all killed burned deep.

Dutch had expressed his desire to hold a small vigil for Annabelle. Because of their rushed exit, people hadn’t exactly had a chance to properly pay respects or mourn. To him, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

Their leader stood behind the fire, addressing his gang with a slightly muted confidence, his appearance illuminated by the flickering flames. “Never before, have I had to stand before my friends and family to mourn the loss of someone so dear to my heart. Loss is a big part of this life, especially when we are fightin’ for what’s right, but it never grows easy to comprehend. The murder of innocence is even worse, especially when the light extinguished is that of a person so near and dear to all of us.

“I know that Annabelle loved you all and wanted what’s best for everyone. She would want us to make it out of this, to find our freedom once more, and live life how it _should_ be lived. She left her old life to grace us with her presence, to brighten up this camp with a lovin’ touch we had certainly missed since the passin’ of Mrs. Bessie Matthews. There’s no replacin’ anyone in this gang and there never will be, but she certainly helped to ease us out of our despair. Now, we’ll have to pull together to protect ourselves from this newly-formin’ dark cloud. 

“You will all have to forgive me if I don’t seem as reassurin’ as I normally am, but I ain’t lost someone this important in a long, long time. I was blessed to have known my lovely Annabelle — we all were, even if it had to be so violently cut short.” He paused, hands on his hips as he looked around at the different eyes watching him intently. He met Arthur’s gaze briefly and he instantly knew it was time. Dutch moved slightly around the fire, steps slow and deliberate. “It has changed me — I can feel it in my bones, in my blood, in my heart. I have found myself questionin’ decisions I made, plaguin’ myself with unhelpful hindsight for what I could have done. Should have, could have, would have. It doesn’t mean all that much now when I’ve already had to bury Annabelle on a peaceful Utahn hillside. But, like all of you, I too have my questions about how it happened. We know it was those O’Driscolls who took it upon themselves to tear her away from us. But the questions that keep flyin’ ’round in my mind have yet to receive any straightforward answers — how we came to this point and how the hell they knew where we were.”

Right on cue, William stepped forward into the crowd and harshly shoved Pádraig forward. The Northern Irishman was clearly caught off guard, stumbling but managing to stay on his feet. He found himself standing in front of a seething Dutch, who stared him down with every bit of vitriol in his body.

“So, Mr. Wilson,” Dutch began in a low tone. “Do you think you can finally answer those question for me and put my mind at ease? Or do I have to hold your face down over this campfire until the words spill from your melted lips? You tell me.”

With everyone crowded around the campfire, there was nowhere for Pádraig to run. Arthur could see several members of the gang glancing around in confusion while those trusted friends in on the sting stared forward, both furious and anxious with what was about to come. No one said a word, far too shocked with the development to even try to articulate themselves. The probable betrayal was a shock to a lot of them.

Pádraig was staring at Dutch with wide eyes, stumbling over his words. “I-I-I don’t know what you’re, eh, talkin’ ’bout. Mr. Van der Linde, I already t-told you—”

“Oh no,” Dutch interrupted him. “I think you _do_ know. In fact, I’ve never been so certain of somethin’ in my life. Ain’t nothin’ else ’round here that we value more than loyalty —I told you that when I was nice enough to save your life and welcome you into our fold. I can spot disloyalty a mile off. I’m just ashamed that I didn’t notice it before you had my woman murdered. So how about you start bein’ honest with me, or would you rather I kill you before you get a chance to admit what you’ve done?”

Pádraig stared at Dutch for a long time. There was complete silence in the camp bar the unnerving crackling of the fire. Everyone stood and waited for him to vehemently defend himself like he had done previously, but something changed that night. Arthur wasn’t sure what it was, but he wasn’t prepared for the shift in expression that covered Pádraig’s face. He instantly transformed from the skittish, friend man he had come to recognise, and wore a sly smirk that had never been previously seen.

“So,” Pádraig began calmly. “Took you long enough, didn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well well... how the turn tables...


	36. A Fine Night of Degeneracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pádraig tells all and some startling revelations are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy fellers! Apologies for the delay - I had some emergency commission work I had to follow up on from last time that delayed me. It's been one of those weeks, unfortunately :)) This chapter was also turning out to be 10k words long, so I decided to split it into two separate chapters (another reason for my delay). The other will hopefully be uploaded in the next few days to make up for the long wait, but it was a long boi. I apologise for the mistakes I inevitably missed.   
Hope you's enjoy finding out what the hell Pádraig has been up to! Looking forward to hearing what you's think :)
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “Looking Too Closely” — Fink, “Blood Feuds, Ancient and Modern” — Woody Jackson

Maebh stood within the gathering, eyes fixed on Pádraig as the words fell from his lips.

“So, took you long enough didn’t it?”

It was very hard to prevent her jaw from dropping. She barely recognised the man before her — the man they saved, housed, and fed for nearly four years. The utter disrespect he was showing to Dutch in that moment left her questioning every interaction she had ever had with him. The smirk on his lips was so foreign and yet somehow unsettling. His eyes shifted, along with his entire demeanour. Arrogance practically oozed from him.

Beside her, William stayed close. If he was put off by the surprising display, he certainly didn’t show it.

“Does someone wanna tell me what the hell is goin’ on?” Bill demanded, impatiently looking around for some sort of explanation.

“What’s not to get?” Arthur asked, visibly steaming. “That rat betrayed us to those damn O’Driscolls.”

“Oh, you think this is about the O’Driscolls?” Pádraig asked, looking away from Dutch to laugh at them. “You’re more clueless than I thought.”

“Then why don’t you start _talkin’_,” Dutch sneered, not taking his eyes off him. “Before I decide to crush your skull with my bare hands.”

Not shying away despite the threat, the Northern Irishman shrugged. “I’ve a funny feeling that you’re goin’ to be doing that either way, y’know.”

“I can make it quick.”

“I’m dead anyway. Whatever way I go out means little to me when my job is already done.”

“How the hell can you talk like that, Mr. Wilson?” Susan asked in complete distain. “We clothed you, fed you, saved you from that horrible man—”

“You did everythin’ you were _supposed_ to do.”

“_Supposed_ to do?” Dutch repeated slowly, his rage refusing to simmer.

Somehow, despite the incredibly tense atmosphere, Pádraig seemed amused. “Don’t tell me that you haven’t realised it all yet? Here I was thinkin’ you lot were smart.”

“Care to enlighten us some more?” Hosea asked and took a step forward. “Considerin’ we ain’t smart enough to figure it out. Let me guess — Matthew put you up to this?”

“He didn’t put me up to anythin’. He showed me the way I needed to go, what I had to do to keep order. It’s my purpose.”

Beside her, Maebh could feel Arthur growing more frustrated with every nonsensical word that spewed from Pádraig’s lips. “You best start makin’ some sense, boy, or I’ll put a bullet in you myself.”

The other man grinned. “If you need it spelled out for you, our first meetin’ was a ploy. It’s true that Colm O’Driscoll had me beaten and bloodied because I failed to rob that train that you intercepted. But Matthew had helped me to see the error of my ways long before that. My loyalties don’t lie with you _or_ Colm — you’re all merely pawns in a bigger game. I’m no better than you. I’m simply a piece to play my part when the time is right.”

Dutch somehow remained restrained as he spoke. “And what does Matthew want?”

There was a brief pause before Pádraig proudly declared. “Chaos. Complete and total chaos. It’s the only way.”

“The only way for _what?”_

“You should know, Mr. Van der Linde. I’m pretty sure you and Matthew want the same thing. Your ideals aren’t that different but he’s far more committed to them than you are. Civilisation is a plague upon freedom and needs to be eradicated. All those Pinkertons and those cities that keep growin’ and suckin’ the life out of this country. I saw it happen back home but now I can help to stop it. The only way to dismantle it is through complete chaos and disorder. My four years spent in your company has only reaffirmed Matthew’s statements that you don’t have the strength to fully commit to it, but he does. He knows that sacrifices must be made and he’s willin’ to pull the trigger.”

“And that’s what Annabelle was, was she?” Dutch asked. “Just another _sacrifice_ to be made for your great cause?”

“Now you’re gettin’ somewhere. That she was and so was Eóghan — two catalysts that would ensure the rival gangs would continue killin’ each other for years to come. Matthew might’ve orchestrated it and egged Eóghan on despite Colm’s wishes, but Eóghan chose to draw a gun on you, you chose to shoot Eóghan, and Colm chose to have Annabelle killed.”

Hosea asked a question then. “Let me guess — you were the one tellin’ Matthew of our location the whole time? Reportin’ all of our movements?”

Pádraig nodded with pride. “Oh, yes. Matthew _and_ Colm. Mr. O’Driscoll certainly knew that I was betrayin’ you all, but he didn’t have a clue that I wasn’t on his side either.”

Maebh clenched her fists tightly, so glad that she had busted Pádraig’s nose upon first meeting him. Knowing that the entire four years he spent with the gang had been a complete lie was hard to believe. She had never considered him a dear friend, but at least respected him and was glad that Dutch chose to save him that night outside Fulton. Now she wished he’d been drowned in the river instead.

“Can someone just shoot this fuckin’ nutcase already?” Sean demanded shortly. “I can feel me brain meltin’ listenin’ to him shite on.”

“I’m with Sean on this,” Karen agreed, taking a hold of Arthur’s forearm. “Are you just gonna let this guy talk to Dutch like that? About Annabelle?”

“This is Dutch’s choice,” Arthur replied. “Not mine.”

Davey decided to make his opinion known. “Why the hell does he get time to talk? That piece’a shit betrayed us!”

“He had Annabelle killed!” Tilly added. “He’s the reason why those O’Driscolls keep findin’ us. Somethin’ needs to be done.”

A growl came from Bill. “I’ve a couple ideas ’bout what we can do to him.”

Dutch seemed to take the revelation in his stride. “I see. So you’ve been playin’ on my good nature this whole time. You knew we would take you in.”

“Matthew knew,” Pádraig corrected him. “And he was certainly right about everythin’ that would follow. It’s necessary and we’ve stirred our fair amount of chaos, but it will only grow from here. I hope you all know that your lives will never be the same from here on out. You either embrace the destruction or let yourself be trampled under it. Perhaps if you had been more clever, Mr, Van der Linde, Annabelle wouldn’t have ended up with a hole in her head—”

Maebh looked on as Dutch cut his sentence short. His fist met Pádraig’s jaw with a punishing force, sending the man stumbling backwards. His knees buckled and she instinctively winced before catching sight of Abigail picking Jack up into her arms and hurrying inside the house. John watched them go, hesitated, then looked back to what was unfolding before him.

Pádraig rubbed his chin and moved his jaw with a small amount of discomfort. A chuckle escaped him as he looked at Dutch. “Jesus, that hurt. I guess you’re not fond of the truth. It’ll be your undoin’. You’ll lead all of them to their end, just like you led Annabelle.”

Another punch, this time it sent his sprawling to the ground. Maebh glanced at William next to her as he looked on at the encounter in utter dismay. It wasn’t pleasant nor was it satisfactory. She thought that seeing Pádraig suffer a little bit of what Annabelle received would be therapeutic, but something about this didn’t sit right in her gut.

“How have you been tellin’ Matthew where we are?” Dutch demanded, voice cracking in frustration as his emotions well and truly took over. “_How? _Letters? Meetin’s?_ Answer me!”_

The rat sneered up at him. “My methods aren’t important, only the result matters. But if you think that he won’t be able to find you when I’m dead, you’ve got another thing comin’.”

Losing patience, Dutch grabbed him by the collar. “I’m sick’a you talkin’ about that Welsh bastard like he’s some goddamn messiah. He’s just a man and I can kill him just as easily as I can kill you!”

His words were emphasised with a vicious punch. It sent Pádraig’s head snapping backwards. When his lips parted, Maebh expected to hear a pained groan. Defying all odds, he started to laugh.

“Dutch Van der Linde!” Pádraig jeered in amusement as blood ran down the corner of his mouth. “A man of faith who refuses to believe what is right in front of him! Matthew is more of a man than you could ever hope to be. He is _more_ than man and he’ll see to it that all your friends are dead before you can even lay a hand on him!”

More and more punches flew, but Pádraig never once raised his hands, never once defended himself. All he did was laugh, even as he gurgled on his own blood and spit, even as his teeth split Dutch’s knuckles before they cracked and fell out of his mouth.

That maniacal laugh never died down. “This whole event will be your undoing! You don’t realise it yet, but you’re finished — you _and_ Colm!”

Dutch released his collar only to straddle him and continue on the beating with visible exertion. He bared his teeth, breathing and grunting harshly with every thump. The distinct slap of fists against flesh caused a hush to fall over the gang. Some of them shied away from the display of violence while others looked around as though expecting someone to stop it all. A few stood firm, watching as blood splattered across the ground. It congealed in Pádraig’s eye as they began to swell, the laughter choking and spluttering as the red liquid filled his mouth. Speckles stained Dutch’s face and white shirt, but he didn’t seem to care as he viciously beat the man until he was out of breath.

Only then did he get to his feet and start to use his boots to stomp Pádraig’s head in.

Maebh looked away, turning to William only to see his expression finally breaking into a look of genuine shock. Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. The noises of Dutch’s animalistic cries and his victim’s laughter continued until slowly, the latter grew weaker and weaker.

The kicks did not, even after Pádraig was silent.

When Dutch finally stopped, breathing harshly as he filled his lungs once more, Maebh made the mistake of looking in his direction. The brief image she caught of his caved-in face made her squeeze her eyes shut again. The confused silence that consumed her friends dragged on for what felt like forever. Mary-Beth was visibly upset, already being consoled by a perturbed Miss Tilly as she tried to compose herself.

Dutch fixed his dishevelled hair, looking down at the limp and mangled body with utter distain. He clutched his damaged hands and looked to Arthur, one of the only people who managed to not avert his gaze.

No one dared to speak — not even Hosea. What could they say? No one wanted to even acknowledge that he had beaten a man — a man they had considered an ally — to death with an audience watching on. He deserved it, didn’t he? He _betrayed_ them. But God, Maebh had never seen something so visceral in her life.

With a nod, Dutch gave his orders. “Burn the body. We leave at dawn.”

* * *

Not that long after, Maebh lay in bed with Arthur, eyes wide open and staring up at the ceiling ahead. William lay on the floor, wrapped up in his bed roll and managing to sleep despite the events that transpired earlier that evening. The atmosphere that night was tense, uncertain, reserved. The plan was to move out at sunrise while some folks went on guard duty and kept the perimeter secure while the others tried to get some sleep. Despite being extremely exhausted, Maebh struggled to take the interaction off her mind. She found herself questioning and analysing every single interaction she had previously had with Pádraig. She feared that she might see his unrecognisable face in her dreams, pummelled into itself and stained in deep red, eye bulging, teeth broken, somehow still grinning.

“You won’t get any sleep with your eyes open.”

She turned her head to find Arthur peering at her from his spot on the bed. 

“Says you,” she whispered in response, trying not to wake her brother. “I didn’t realise you were still awake.”

“I was waitin’ for you to fall asleep first,” he admitted. “But you’re as stiff as a board.”

“Sorry. I’m pretty knackered but my brain feels wide awake.”

“I don’t think he’s worth your thoughts.”

“I know but it’s hard thinkin’ of anythin’ else. Four years he was pullin’ that shite, Arthur. _Four years_. Do you think he questioned what he was doin’ at any point at all? Or did Matthew have him completely brainwashed the whole time?”

He let out a long breath through his nostrils before shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’d like to think that maybe he hesitated at times, but after the way he spoke today I can’t really picture it anymore. He seemed brainwashed to me.”

“You’d swear Matthew is a god with the way he was talkin’ about him.”

“Maybe Pádraig thought he was. Hell, maybe Matthew thinks he is. You wouldn’t know with those loons.”

“I don’t think anythin’ else would surprise me at this stage but not takin’ it personally is difficult.”

“I know,” he reassured her, reaching across to cup her cheek in his warm hand. “The lies hurt but we’re lucky that your brother figured it out before anyone else had to die.”

She couldn’t stop the frown that consumed her expression. “But we’re not out of the woods yet.”

“No,” he agreed sadly. “We ain’t. But we will be soon. Once we move out in the mornin’, we’ll be gone before Colm even has a chance to find us. Matthew lost the only lead he had and Dutch is fairly certain that he never got word out about our new location. You know that Grimshaw had her eye on him since we got here.”

His words didn’t do much to ease her woes. “I appreciate you tryin’ to calm me down, but things just seem like such a mess. Annabelle, Matthew, Pádraig’s lies, how Dutch dealt with him...”

“That bastard got what he deserved,” Arthur replied. “Don’t tell me you’re feelin’ sorry for him after he had Annabelle killed?”

“God _no_, he did get what was comin’ to him but it was sad to see how bloody lost he was and how Matthew had manipulated him into bein’ a willin’ sacrifice for the greater good. Not to mention I’ve never seen Dutch like that before.”

“He lost the woman he loved. I guess that could make anyone crazy.”

Maebh didn’t feel convinced, though she wondered how she would react if someone ever did anything to harm Arthur. The concept of him not being around or meeting an unfortunate and violent end left a horrible emptiness in the pit of her stomach. Like she’d ever let _that_ happen. Although it wasn’t as though Dutch let Annabelle be murdered either.

“I guess you have a point,” she murmured, moving closer to him. “I can’t imagine how he feels right now.”

His strong arms slid around her waist and pulled her body flush against his. “Me neither. All we can do is stay strong and trust him. He’ll get us outta this mess. Without Pádraig constantly reporting back to him, Matthew and Colm won’t have a clue where we’ve gone come sunrise. We can move, regroup, find someplace new where we don’t have to deal with those O’Driscolls no more.”

“Maybe we can get that ranch while we’re at it.”

He grinned at her joke but didn’t entirely dismiss her, reaching over the casually fiddle with her necklace. “Maybe we can. Dutch has been sayin’ for the last few weeks that we could get a really big score that means we can lie low for some time. Maybe we can get one big enough for us to retire forever, who knows.”

“I’d like that, especially with you.”

There was a pause in which Arthur ran his eyes over her face. His grin faded into something calmer, more genuine. His arms tightened around her just a smidge, fist enclosing around a clump of her nightgown. “You’re makin’ it sound like you’re with me for the long haul with talk like that.”

“When did I tell you I wasn’t?” she asked teasingly. “I love you, ye big dope. The idea of spendin’ my life with you sounds really appealing.”

He blushed and averted his gaze for a moment. “Well I… I obviously like the sound of that too.”

“I would certainly hope so, ’cause you’re stuck with me.”

Pushing his self-conscience nature away, Arthur cleared his throat. “I know we’ve said this a few times, but that makes me real’ happy. We’ve been friends a long time and this doesn’t feel as awkward as I thought it might. I don’t know if I’ve always felt this way about you — maybe I have — but what I do know is that I wouldn’t rather anyone else by my side. I’d be a fool to let you go after everythin’ we’ve been through.”

She didn’t know what to say. Those moments when Arthur managed to share his feelings still turned her to mush. Well, he had the ability to do that on a day-to-day basis with very little effort involved, but still... She felt so lucky to be the object of his affections.

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. At a loss for what to stay, she chose instead to capture his lips in an eager kiss. Arthur didn’t even hesitate in kissing her back, a hand slipping into her hair and clasping the back of her head. Lightly closing her teeth around his bottom lip, the noise he let out made her chuckle. 

“Oh?” he began, voice rough and growling. “Is that how you wanna play it?”

Suddenly she was being manhandled in the bed. With surprising finesse, he rolled over flat on his back and pulled her down on top of him. Her legs instinctively parted either side of his hips and all that separated them was his union suit and her underwear. 

The precarious position made her lightheaded while he seemed content. “It’s good to know that I can make you blush once in a while.”

“You’re a bit of a divil, aren’t you?”

“I’m an outlaw,” was his cheeky reply. “What did you expect?”

“Hey, I never said I didn’t like it.”

Her voice shook a little as she spoke, but he didn’t appear to mind. Seemingly taken with her response, he pulled her down and kissed her until she was breathless. Already feeling her stomach starting to flip, she had to force herself to part from him.

Without missing a beat, he asked. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she reassured him, casting a glance at her sleeping brother. “Except ehh… He said his one condition for sharin’ this room with us is that we don’t ride each other.”

Arthur blinked then looked at William as though he had forgotten he was there. The shock that covered his face so closely resembled a child caught with their hand in the biscuit jar. “Oh! I mean, I wasn’t tryin’ nothin’.”

“Oh, you _weren’t?”_ she asked, setting her hands on top of his where they were currently placed dangerously close to her rear.

He let out a long ‘uuuhhh’ before speaking. “Okay, maybe I was tryin’ a little somethin’, but I wasn’t gonna try _that_.”

She carefully lay down next to him again, resting her head on his chest. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

He wrapped his arm around her and she delighted in the familiar smell that filled her nostrils. Tobacco and perhaps a smidge of redwood — there was something distinctly Arthur about it, not to mention how comforting it had become in recent months. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” he murmured into the darkness. “Is the beard too much? I know some women like their men clean-shaven.”

She glanced up at him, well aware that his facial hair had grown out into a full beard. The amount of time they now spent on the road meant he barely had a moment to rest let alone shave. 

With gentle fingers, she felt the thick hair that covered his scarred chin. “I like it. Beard, no beard, stubble… It all looks good to me.”

“Are you sure? Because I can do whichever one you prefer.”

“As long as it’s attached to your face, I really don’t mind. I like men with a nice beard on them — it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. You look handsome either way.”

He seemed quietly content with her answer, unable to hide a small but joyful smile. “Duly noted.”

“We should probably take your own advice and get some sleep. I can compliment you some more in the mornin’.”

“I’ll wait for you to nod off first.” She felt him press a kiss into the top of her head. “Goodnight, Maebh.”

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

She lay there in the dark, comforted by the arm wrapped around her body. The slow rise and fall of his chest gently eased her closer and closer to some much needed rest. Eventually, the need became too much and she drifted off into a deep sleep.

* * *

A slight jostling woke Maebh up sometime later. She grumbled groggily, eyes squinting in the darkness. “Arthur?” 

“I’m just goin’ to the latrine,” he whispered, his dark figure already out of the bed. He carefully pulled the blanket over her before adding. “You go back to sleep, sweetheart. I won’t be long.”

She let him go, rolling over to face the wall as the door softly opened and shut behind him. Despite her exhaustion, she wasn’t able to fall asleep with the bed so empty. His warmth remained despite his absence, his smell lingering on the pillow. Even still, it wasn’t enough to lull her back to sleep. At least she didn’t _think_ she had fallen back to sleep. In her drowsy confusion, she wasn’t sure how long Arthur was gone, but she began to think that he was taking his sweet time.

_Would you hurry back so that I can sleep again? Ugh, when did you get so needy, Maebh?_

Eventually, she heard the door creek open again. She smiled, eyes still shut. Eagerly awaiting his company again, she didn’t initially notice the light coming in through the doorway. She opened her eyes, just as a fist grabbed her loose ponytail.

The pain that struck her head was blinding as she was forcefully yanked from the bed. She screamed, her rear smacking against the wooden floor as she dizzily fought against whoever was accosting her.

“_Maebh!”_ William screamed before he let out a pained grunt.

In her struggle, she caught sight of someone standing over him, kicking him repeatedly in the gut.

“Leave him alone!” she managed to cry out, tears almost blinding her vision. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

“This one’s a fighter,” her attacker chuckled in a thick West-Irish accent. “Matthew wasn’t kiddin’.”

“Just hogtie her already,” he other man snapped, already tying and gagging a fighting William, but the young man was already weakened by his blows. “Do as Colm says!”

Her heart sank at his words and she was haphazardly thrown to the floor, right next to where her brother lay. She made eye-contact with him briefly and rage instantly consumed her, coupled with genuine panic. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you bastards! You mark my—!”

A cloth gag was quickly placed in her mouth and tied around her head.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the man said as he began to hogtie her with relative ease. “O’course you will. Let’s get these two in the other room.”

They were dragged through the house in their pyjamas, the wooden floors scraping her back and the searing pain in her skull not letting up. They struggled despite their bonds, but it seemed futile. The ropes burned into her skin and her exhaustion was no help in figuring out what she could do or how they could get out of this. She was suddenly thrown across the floor and landed with a harsh smack. William was dumped next to her, hands tightly bound behind his back.

“Make sure you tie up his legs!” one of them demanded.

Heeding his orders, one of their attackers went to bind his ankles together and received a harsh kick in the face for his efforts. The crack of a broken nose almost made her smile behind her gag.

“You little shit!” the injured O’Driscoll snapped, then kicked him in the jaw. “I’ll make you suffer for that!”

Maebh screamed, urging them to leave him alone as William’s head lolled on the floor. He was alive but barely conscious from the strength behind the boot that connected with his face. His eyes just about managed to focus on hers and she wished she could speak clearly, reassure him that they would get out of this, that Arthur would help them. Where the hell was he?

Finally getting her bearings, she realised they were in the main sitting room of the house. Still dark outside, the men’s lanterns gave them a small source of light. Another door swung open and in came Dutch and Hosea with two men behind them, both pointing gun barrels at the back of her friends’ heads. Maebh stared wide eyed as they were led into the room. They had been visibly beaten, their nightclothes in disarray and small cuts and red marks already forming on their brows and chins.

_Christ, they got them too. Oh, God — what about John and Abigail? And little Jack? Where are they? They’re meant to be in their room sleepin’ too. What did they do to them?_

“It seems we’re late to the party, Dutch,” the man with his pistol aimed at Dutch’s head said with a grin. Despite his scrawny appearance and long, grey hair, he radiated control, the other men looking to him for direction as soon as he entered the room. “We’ve already got young Mr. and Miss Hennigan here, whom I’ve heard _so_ much about.”

Maebh didn’t need to be told that the man sneering down at her was Colm O’Driscoll.

The sight of them made Dutch bare his teeth. “Some tough men you are, jumpin’ a pair’a kids in their sleep."

“We can still talk this out like gentlemen,” Hosea was saying. “So much blood has already been shed—”

Colm quickly cut him off. “You say too much, I say too little. Get ’em on their knees!”

The henchmen kicked their captives to the ground next to the siblings and forced them to rest their hands on the back of their heads. Maebh caught Hosea’s eye, hoping to see some amount of confidence behind his gaze.

“We’ll get out of this, Miss Maebh,” Hosea pacified her. “We’ll be alright.”

Dutch was quick to join in. “I ain’t gonna let them touch either of you again. I’d die before I let it happen.”

Colm chuckled and looked to his men. “There’s the charismatic leader I’ve heard so much about. After all these years, I can’t believe it took us so long to finally meet.”

Dutch was unamused. “I prefer when my visitors call ahead of time.”

“Well, I prefer the element of surprise,” Colm replied, squatting down in front of him. “If you couldn’t already tell.”

Unwilling to play any games, Dutch got to work. “Surely we can cut some sort of deal here, Colm — outlaw to outlaw. We’re both on this earth tryin’ to do the same thing. We got women and children in this camp and they don’t need to die. You’re a better man than that, I’m sure.”

“Oh, we know you do; we’ve already got all of your little friends tied up outside — includin’ that young boy and his momma we found in here. They’re just waitin’ for the show to start. Unfortunately for you, your assumptions about me are fairly inaccurate. I just _love_ lettin’ my men cause as much chaos and murder as they can, and they love doin’ it. If it does away with one of my biggest competitors and the man who murdered my brother, then so be it.”

“What the hell kinda show are you talkin’ ’bout?”

Colm grinned widely, seemingly delighted with how things were transpiring. “You’re a man of pride, a man who loves theatrics. So, I figured what better way for you to go out than up in flames? Ya see, I made sure to gather up all your little favourite folks in here and you’re gonna watch them burn knowin’ that it’s your fault they’re bein’ cooked alive. Then the rest of your little gang can look on from outside and see their honourable leader perish before my men pick them off one by one. Poetic, ain’t it? I figured you’d appreciate it.”

Right on queue, three more men came through the door, one leading as the other two dragged a body in with them. 

Maebh’s eyes widened as she realised it was Arthur, knocked unconscious with a swelling welt on his forehead. She screamed behind her gag, barely able to form his name. The man leading them stood in front of her, revealing himself to be a very satisfied looking Matthew.

“Well, well,” he began, accent thick. “We meet again, Miss Hennigan. We found your dear lover outside and I had the pleasure of knocking him out myself — quite therapeutic after all the shit I’ve put up with from you lot.”

Hosea actually gasped. “Arthur, no—!”

Dutch quickly moved to stand. “You get your goddamn hands off’a him!”

“Ah-ah!” Matthew aimed his gun at Arthur’s head. “Another step and I’ll happily put a bullet in him. Are you really sure you’d like to have _another_ loved one’s blood on your hands?”

“Wait just a goddamn minute,” Hosea pled with them. “Think about what you’re doin’!”

Colm looked on in delight. “You two, throw him into that room there and rejoin the others outside. We’ll handle it from here.”

The men followed their orders and dragged Arthur into Dutch’s room. With the door swung wide open, Maebh watched on powerlessly as they dumped him on the floor and he let out a groan. They quickly exited the building, leaving only Colm, Matthew, and the three O’Driscolls who had helped to capture the gang as they slept. She pulled on her restraints to no avail, feeling the ropes breaking her skin. Matthew got to work, picking up a nearby bottle of moonshine he had stashed and began to pour it around the bedroom. He hummed a cheerful tune under his breath while Maebh started to yell out, urging Arthur to wake up. Dutch and Hosea panicking too. 

The smell of alcohol burned her nostrils and time moved slowly, eyes fixed on her unmoving lover. Her gaze drifted to William, still writing in pain on the floor. Matthew’s humming turned to whistling — the only sound she could make out bar her own heavy breathing and quickening heartbeat. Everything slowed, everything went quiet. She could no longer hear her friends’ screams. 

A sickening feeling of realisation washed over her — they were about to meet a violent and inconceivable end.


	37. Irish Venom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final confrontation with the O'Driscolls plays out as the Van der Linde Gang desperately fight to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back with a bang! Here's the second half to the original chapter, aptly named because I'm self indulgent. It's all been coming to this and shit is about to hit the fan. Apologies for any mistakes that I have most likely missed, but I hope y'all enjoy this instalment regardless. We're getting closer and closer to the inevitable end!
> 
> FUN FACT: Pádraig's entire existence is based off one piece of dialogue that Arthur says to Tilly and the events of this chapter were inspired by a single line in his journal. I will be bestowing infinite bonus points to whoever can possibly guess what they are and we ALL know how invaluable bonus points are around here.
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “American Venom” — Woody Jackson, “Til We Die” — Slipknot, “Dead End Alley” — Bill Elm & Woody Jackson

John couldn’t sleep, but what was new in his goddamn miserable life?

Not a whole lot…

He stood a far distance from the house where the gang had settled for the night, overlooking the valley below as he smoked fresh tobacco with his pipe. The cool mountain air was a nice contrast to the smoke that filled his lungs before he exhaled again, over and over. He left Abigail and Jack sleeping in his room and carefully snuck out, not wanting to disturb them as they finally got some much needed rest. It was weird enough sharing his room with them in the first place, so a little bit of time to himself was desperately needed. He hadn’t been eager about them bunking with him at first, but knowing he could at least keep an eye on them after what happened with Annabelle was a small consolation. He was still mostly uncomfortable around Jack who was now a walking, talking, little person — it was _terrifying_.

He was alone when he heard a commotion in the distant trees. An owl hooted and a branch cracked. At first he wondered whether it was simply the wild animals that lived on the mountain going about their business, but the very human grunt that broke the silence told him otherwise. Quickly putting out his pipe, he crept towards the noise, hand instinctively moving to his holster only to find it empty.

_You left your gun inside, you fool… At least you’ve got your knife. It’s better than nothin’._

Dressed in only his union suit, he wasn’t exactly ready for war. He slunk through the undergrowth with his knife in hand and spotted three struggling figures in the darkness the closer he got. Someone cursed and he instantly recognised Javier’s voice. When his eyes adjusted to the dark and he registered that one of them had his friend in a chokehold, he hurried forward through the brush.

“Keep it down!” the other attacker whispered urgently, clutching his bleeding noise. “We don’t want the others to hear us.”

“I’m tryin’,” his companion replied gruffly, arm wrapped around Javier’s neck. “If this stupid greaser would just quit strugglin’—”

John didn’t wait to hear anything else. He leapt from the bush, grabbed the attacker, and plunged his knife into his neck in rapid and vicious stabs. The man choked, gurgled on his own blood, and let his arms fall away from Javier.

The other man stumbled and reached for his knife. “What in the—”

Javier was quicker, pulling a throwing knife from his gun belt and sending it flying into the man’s neck. He fell to the ground, writhing and spluttering in pain as blood spurted from his wound.

John quickly helped his friend to his feet. “Are you okay?”

“I will be,” he replied, rubbing his throat. “Thanks for showing up at a good time.”

“I was smokin’ outside and heard the commotion but I sure as hell didn’t expect to see some goddamn O’Driscolls tryin’ to kill ya.”

Javier quickly picked up his repeater and retrieved the bloody throwing knife. “The two of them jumped me while I was on patrol. I got a punch in before the other guy tried to choke me out. I think it’s safe to assume that there’s more of them around.”

“Let’s keep it down then,” John agreed, collecting one O’Driscoll’s revolver. “And try to see what the hell is goin’ on. God knows how many of ’em are wanderin’ ’round.”

“Follow me, brother.”

The pair of them snuck along the back of the house as silently as possible while John noticed the dim lights inside. Tentatively sticking his head up to one of the broken windows, he saw a group of men forcing Dutch and Hosea out of their beds. 

He cursed under his breath and quickly informed Javier of the development. “Christ, they got Dutch and Hosea! We gotta get in there and help them!”

“It isn’t just them,” his friend began with a look of dismay. “Come here and take a look.”

Joining him at the corner of the house, he peered around the bend to see the rest of the gang being gathered at gunpoint by numerous O’Driscolls. Their bedrolls and tents were emptied messily, blankets and pillows strewn about the ground. He could only imagine the fright they received as they were roughly pulled from their sleep by armed O’Driscolls. His friends were separated into smaller groups and lead further away from the house before eventually being forced to sit on the ground.

“Keep your goddamn mouths shut,” an O’Driscoll ordered them. “Or else we shoot the boy. I’m sure none’a you are that stupid.”

The words had him gritting his teeth and he spotted a terrified Abigail and Jack amongst the rabble. Despite her fear, the woman wasn’t about to go quietly. “If you touch a hair on my boy’s head, I’ll kill you myself. Bunch’a grown men pickin’ on a child!”

“Sure you will, you little harlot! Shut your mouth or put the bastard’s life at risk. It’s your damn choice.”

John gulped, watching as she cradled the boy in her arms.“Shit, _shit_. Did they jump the entire goddamn camp in their sleep? Did no one see ’em?”

“Sean was on patrol on the other side of camp but they picked him up too,” Javier explained and pointed to the captured Irishman. “Look there.”

“We gotta do somethin’. Do you see Maebh and William with them?”

“No. They were sleeping in Arthur’s room so they were probably grabbed inside too.”

The fear that took hold of him was unrelenting. Everyone he cared for was at risk and he had only just returned in the hopes of repairing things. In a matter of days, things had gone completely pear-shaped. After a year away, losing them so soon hit even harder. He wasn’t about to let them slip through his fingers.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Those sons’a bitches! I swear, if they lay a hand on any of them…” 

“We won’t let them, but it looks like it’s just you and me. I saw Arthur headed to the latrine earlier so maybe he got away.”

John shook his head with a grim expression. “He wouldn’t leave any of us behind, especially not Maebh. He’s either in the house or they already jumped him.”

“You’re probably right. If we’re to have any chance of getting out of this, we’ll need to free some of them. If Matthew or Colm are here, they’ll be inside confronting Dutch.”

“No doubt. It certainly seems dramatic enough to match Matthew’s usual carry on. We’ll just have to hope that they can stall them while we set those folks free. It looks like pairs of O’Driscolls are gatherin’ them up and guardin’ them. I count… four pairs of two, and then five men standin’ facin’ the front of the house with torches in their hands. You see ’em?”

“I see them. You’re thinking we take out the pairs together one by one, then try to help everyone still inside the house?”

“If we can do it quietly it’ll give the others a chance to run before the fellers watchin’ the house even notice.”

“We’ll have to be quick then. We probably don’t have much time until they realise we killed those two guards back in the trees. I don’t like our odds, but we’ve got to try.”

John couldn’t help but be apprehensive about the whole thing and who could blame him? Nevertheless, he had to keep going, he had to keep pushing and hope that they could rescue everyone in time despite their exhaustion, despite their low numbers, despite the odds being entirely stacked against them. He led the way, the two of them quickly sneaking through the open field to hide in the trees relatively close to where the gang had been sectioned off and held captive. He carefully placed his feet down in the grass, mindful of what was beneath lest a dried leaf or thin twig alert the O’Driscolls to his whereabouts. His studied the two guards who stood watch over Abigail, Jack, Miss Tilly, and Uncle. With their backs turned towards them, John and Javier slowly crept forward, knives clutched tightly in their grasp. John held up three fingers for his friend to see. 

He mouthed the numbers and raised his fingers in sequence.

_1… 2… 3!_

With careful and exact timing, they both leapt forward. John immediately placed his hand over the man’s mouth and plunged his knife into his neck. He heaved him back as he grunted behind his hand, pulling him into the brush and laying him carefully down amidst the thickets. Javier had done the same just as quickly judging by the splatter of blood on his face. With the guards for that group no longer an issue, John crept forward and oh so gently tapped Abigail’s shoulder. She whipped around and thankfully didn’t let out a yell. With his finger pressed to his lips, he nodded for her to follow him back into the trees. She smiled widely despite the initial fear and gently covered Jack’s mouth with her hand in case he cried out at the sight of his father. Tilly and Uncle followed until they were carefully hidden behind a tree trunk.

“Thank God you decided to make yourself useful, Marston,” Uncle whispered. “I thought we were done for.”

“John,” Abigail sighed in relief. “They came while we was sleepin’. They’ve still got the Hennigans, Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea in the house. They threatened to hurt us if I screamed—”

“It’s alright,” he calmed her, placing a hand over hers. We’ll be fine. I was out smokin’ when they arrived so we was lucky.”

“Was Arthur still in the house when they grabbed you?” Javier asked.

“I ain’t sure. They took us outside before I could check. I saw more men goin’ into the house afterwards but Lord knows what they’re doin’ now.”

John nodded and then gave young Jack a reassuring smile. Seeing them reiterated Arthur’s words uttered the previous day; their safety was entirely out of his hands. “Nothin’ good. We need to get you all outta here and fast.”

“I can help,” Tilly volunteered, already picking up one of the discarded weapons from a guard’s corpse. “Me, you, and Javier can free the next group while Abigail, Jack, and Uncle hide here. Then when we have everyone, I can help lead them away while you two rescue those inside the house.”

It was their best bet for success and John wasn’t about to argue against it. “Sounds like our best shot. You got more of your throwin’ knives, Javier? I’ve got an idea.”

After a brief discussion of their plan, they got to work. 

The trio moved off to the next group that had been segregated nearby. They stealthily took out the guards, freeing more of their friends as they went. Any lone patrolling O’Driscolls were dealt with quickly, various gang members like Williamson or Miss Jones helped to pick them off like sickly bison and hid their bodies in the bushes. With more gang members on the offensive, the last of their captors were successfully silenced and, after a quiet and brief discussion, Mac insisted on helping them free the others inside the house.

“I ain’t about to turn down an opportunity to kill more O’Driscolls and rescue my friends,” he explained. “Seems like a win-win to me.”

“We could really do with the extra hand,” Javier agreed. “Especially with hostages involved.”

John agreed. “Then you’re in, Mac. You come with us. Tilly, you lead these folks outta here. Grab some horses and head for the two Mahogany Mountains to the east. If we ain’t with y’all again by sunrise, head into Morgan. Keep ’em safe and shoot any O’Driscoll that comes your way.”

“Consider it done,” Tilly replied in a whisper and quickly began to lead the rest of the gang away. “Be careful, you three.”

“You stay safe,” Abigail urged him, grabbing his hand as she carried Jack in her arms. “You get them back but _be safe_.”

He tried to ignore the little fluttering in his heart. “Don’t worry yourself about it, Abigail. Ain’t no trouble.”

He watched them go and steadied himself — they weren’t out of the woods yet.

Their quick actions had thankfully gone unnoticed with mere moments to spare. Tilly had already begun to lead the gang away when one of the guards watching the front of the house came to check on the prisoners. He almost dropped his torch when he found all of them missing and his compatriots nowhere to be seen.

John could hear them arguing as they moved through the darkness back towards the house.

“What the—? The prisoners are gone!”

“_What? _Ah, I knew we shouldn’t’ve left them fools watchin’ ’em. We have to tell Colm.”

“I’m not tellin’ the boss about this — he’ll eat the head off me! Go track them down, they can’t have gone too far.”

“But we’re meant to help burn this place to the ground. You two go look for them and we’ll stay here. I’m sure they’ll be gettin’ this show on the road as soon as possible. The last thing we need is to lose the ones inside the house as well.”

“They’re gonna burn the place down with them inside!” Mac reiterated as two of the O’Driscolls ran off with their torches in search of the gang. “We need to move fast, boys.”

“Follow me,” John hurried them along. “I’ve got an idea.”

He quickly lead them towards the house, hoping to God that they weren’t too late.

* * *

“_Stop!”_ Maebh cried, voice somewhat muffled with the gag. “Don’t do this! Please, let him go!”

Her antics grabbed Colm’s attention immediately, his face contorted by the harsh light of the lanterns. “You know, we had originally planned for _you_ to be the one thrown in that room. Mr. Morgan watchin’ as you burned alive seemed like an apt punishment for one of Dutch’s favourite sons. But when we happened upon him outside well… the plan changed.”

“Just when you two had finally begun your relationship,” Matthew lamented, casually tossing the empty moonshine bottle away with a crash. “And now we get to take it away from you. It’s just like one of your stories; something Shakespeare himself would add to his tragedies. Perhaps we’ll throw you or your brother in their next?”

Maebh growled as she stared into Colm’s beady eyes. She could taste salt on her lips, tears from distress and pain falling of their own accord. The last time she felt her body shaking in consumed rage was when those Pinkertons murdered their father. She wasn’t about to lose someone she loved — not again, not ever.

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you both!” she screamed through the cloth, throat tearing itself apart with her cries. “If you touch him, I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do! Arthur, you have’ta get up! C’mon!”

“Control your dogs, Dutch,” Colm said tiredly. “I’ve had it up to here with her yammerin’ on.”

Dutch’s response was uncharacteristically urgent. “Let him go! Ain’t no reason why anyone needs to die! I killed Eóghan and you killed Annabelle — surely we are square. If you want more goddamn revenge than take me and let them go.”

“I wish it was that simple — I really do, but you ain’t hearin’ me. You broke our trust and you killed my brother. I want you to suffer and havin’ you watch your family die as you draw in your last ragged breath is the best way to achieve it.”

With that, Colm grabbed a torch from one of his men. He lit the soaked cloth on top and the flames came to life, colouring his face in an orange hue. Matthew repeated the action, gazing at the flickering fire in complete captivation. Maebh looked around desperately. Slowly, the same orange colour began to seep in through the glass windows. She saw the O’Driscolls outside — a whole bunch of them — lighting their torches and filling the dark night with threatening flames that caused her heart to beat faster and faster. They were surrounded, their friends were apparently held hostage outside, and soon flames would take them all.

Colm turned to Dutch, holding the torch dangerously close to his face. “Anythin’ else you wanna say to your son before we cook him up?”

“I am tellin’ you right now,” Dutch began slowly. “If you harm him — if you harm _any_ of my family — I’ll hunt you down myself and see to it that you pay for what you’ve done. I’ll make sure that I see the moment of realisation in your eyes, the moment you understand that you’re goin’ to die. If you kill him, you’re sealin’ your own fate; mark my words.”

The man hesitated, his smile cracking for the briefest of moments that Maebh only just managed to catch. He studied his opponent carefully and then let out a small sigh. “Y’know, it’s a shame you had to go and do what you did — we could’a kept our partnership goin’ and been rich men out west. But I guess you got greedy and now you gotta pay the consequences.”

Maebh was yelling desperately as Colm approached the bedroom door. Arthur lay limply on the ground, completely blindsided by what was about to occur. No matter what she said, the attacker didn’t hesitate. His steps were sure and his smile returned with the thought of Arthur’s imminent death. In the throng, Maebh could hear Dutch and Hosea calling out too, begging for him to be left alone. Next to her, her brother was screaming behind his gag. It took her a moment to register what he was trying to say.

“Colm,” he hollered. “It was _Matthew! It was Matthew!”_

Whether it was the different voice that joined the chorus, or the curiosity his statement left in his mind, Colm stopped and turned. “What was that?”

Matthew was quick to interject as smoothly as he could. “Are we really going to pay that little Fenian any mind? He would do much better with another boot to the face rather than someone paying attention to whatever drivel he spouts.”

William continued with his muffled cries. The rag made it more difficult to speak, but he wasn’t entirely incoherent. “It was Matthew! Matthew had us kill Eóghan.”

There was a silence in which Colm slowly approached the younger man. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, boy?”

“He’s telling the truth,” Maebh quickly, causing Colm to whip around to look at her. “Matthew instigated a whole argument that had Eóghan killed. He purposely went against your orders so that a fight would break out. Pádraig told us himself. He’s not on your side!”

“He’s not on _anyone’s_ side,” William added insistently. “He’s a wanker who only looks out for himself. He’s been tryin’ to pit the two gangs against each other the whole time for his own gain. He’s only out to stir as much shit as possible. Pádraig admitted to it all. They don’t care about you or us.” He paused, looking up at Colm with visible strain. “He’s playin’ you for a fool and thinks he can outsmart both of us. Isn’t that right, Matthew?”

His words brought a heavy weight down on the room. The other three O’Driscolls that stayed to help deal with the prisoners looked around in confusion. Colm breathed deep, staring down at the siblings. He blinked and gritted his teeth. “I ain’t here to listen to some fancy stories from you two.”

Maebh groaned in frustration. “We’re not lyin’ — just _think_ about it for a second! Why would Dutch readily kill Eóghan when he knows your gang outnumbers his? Matthew got Eóghan riled up, then conveniently left the scene before there was a shoot out. He set him off knowin’ that it would result in absolute chaos, which is what he wanted all along.”

“It’s true,” Hosea said. “I was there and saw it all for myself. We went there with the intension of protectin’ our people, but Matthew made sure that things would go downhill when he spent so much time antagonisin’ both sides—”

“I’ve heard enough of this,” Matthew cut across him with a roll of his eyes and then aimed his revolver at Maebh’s head. “This time wasting is really getting my goat. I’d rather put a bullet between your eyes and be done with it.”

Suddenly, Colm pushed his companion’s gun further to the ground. His eyes were narrowed, calculating. “No, you won’t. That ain’t the plan.”

Matthew hesitated, then let out a scoff. “Don’t tell me you’re listening to any of this nonsense? Are you really going to believe this bunch of hicks over _me_, your trusted herald? They are trying to turn you against me. Let’s do what we came here to do.”

“And what did _you_ come here to do?” Colm asked sharply. 

Matthew grinned. “To follow your orders, of course. I do as you say.”

“Really? ’Cause as I recall, I told you to return with my brother and the agreement that Van der Linde Gang would pay us back the money they stole from us. Instead, you come back to tell me that he’s dead and they’ve run off.”

There was another silence as they stared each other down. Dutch sat on the ground and calmly opened his mouth. “Is the penny droppin’, Colm? Everythin’ startin’ to make sense?”

“You keep your mouth, Dutch. I ain’t done with you.”

“You ain’t done with me, but I’m startin’ to think that you’re done with _him_.”

Matthew’s gaze slowly drifted to Dutch. “Big words from a man living out his final moments.”

William shook his head. “Even bigger words from some slimy little prick who has run out of allies.”

“Do you want to join Arthur inside that room?” Matthew asked him, gesturing with his torch. “I can make that happen.”

“No,” Colm cut across him. “You can’t. You ain’t the one ’round here that calls the shots.”

The look in Matthew’s eyes was something she had never seen — wild, unpredictable, but somehow not afraid. “Don’t I always?”

As the two men began to argue, Maebh suddenly heard a tapping on the window behind her. She slowly turned her head and did a double take when she saw who was there. John Marston — still in his union suit — was on the other side, gazing at her through the broken pane, a look of shock covering his features. He put a finger to his lips, held up what appeared to be a throwing knife, and beaconed for her to come closer. As slowly as she could, she backed up closer to the window, remarkably relieved that the O’Driscolls hadn’t hogtied her properly. Despite her arms being bound behind her back,she held them out right below the window, eyes fixed firmly on the arguing Colm and Matthew who were none the wiser. She felt the handle of the knife hit her palm as John dropped it into her sweaty hands. Cutting the ropes as silently as she could, she felt them break away and the pain easing on her wrists. She kept them behind her back and her bare feet stretched out in front of her, still tightly bound at the ankles.

“You know,” Colm was still rambling on. “I was startin’ to question your loyalty, but you insisted on gettin’ revenge and I wasn’t about to argue. At first I thought it was my own idea to shoot his whore, but the more I think about it, the more I realise _you_ were there whisperin’ in my ear the whole time.”

“All I ever did was advise you as best as I could,” Matthew insisted. “I helped you, Mr. O’Driscoll.”

“Helped me do what? Sign an agreement with another gang that betrayed us or got my brother killed? Or hell, did you help me with both?”

Matthew waved him off. “I don’t have time for this.”

Maebh watched win shock as he tossed his torch into the bedroom. It landed in the far corner, the flames immediately coming to life on the spilled moonshine and growing to catch the tattered curtains at the bedroom window. 

“_No!”_

Matthew held eye contact with Colm as he ordered his men outside. “Light them up, men!”

Without further instruction, the windows crashed as more torches came flying in, falling on the wooden floor and various pieces of dilapidated furniture. Thumps were heard overhead as some hit the roof. There was visible panic amongst her friends as the flames quickly grew, heat filling the small house.

Matthew held his arms up casually. “I wasn’t about to let any of you spoil my fun.”

Colm took a threatening step towards him. “You sneaky bastard—”

A shot rang out. Through a window, a bullet flew and hit one of the guards right in the head.

Over the roaring sound of the fire, she heard John’s voice. “Move in on ’em! _Now!”_

With his words, all hell broke loose.

Bullets began to fly, the deafening noise of barrels emptying both inside and out making her ears ring. Dutch was up on his feet in an instant. He tackled Colm to the ground in a rush, the two of them punching and shoving each other amidst the flames. William used his free legs to trip another guard to the ground. Without thinking, Maebh hurled the throwing knife at Matthew. She watched it soar as if in slow motion, but her smile fell as Matthew quickly moved to dodge the weapon with almost inhuman speed. He met her shocked gaze and glared at her, pupils blown in his unsettling eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as he aimed his revolver straight at her. 

A wave of bullets came inside, narrowly missing the Welshman in the fray. He ducked his head, casting one last angry glance at Maebh before he retreated to avoid the onslaught. He moved quickly, heading towards the back door. Avoiding the thick flames, he shut the door to the bedroom and slammed the handle with his gun until the old metal cracked and broke off. With one last smirk at Maebh, Matthew slipped out of the house, disappearing through the fire and smoke.

The chaos in the house only grew as the flames did, eating away at the old structure and gaining strength. Suddenly, John and Javier appeared inside, rushing to help them.

“Are you alright, darlin’?” John asked her as he quickly cut the ropes around her ankles and Javier attended to her brother.

Maebh stared at him, never so relieved to see him before. “Matthew, he—”

“It’s alright — Mac is gone after him. We need to get you outta here.”

“We have’ta help Arthur,” she shouted over the noise and pointed to the locked room. “Matthew was tryin’ to burn him alive in there!”

John looked at the door in dismay. “You get outside, I’ll—”

“I’m not leavin’ without him.”

Seeing that there was no room for arguing, John gave her a nod. “Alright, can you walk?”

Hosea rushed to their side and spoke quickly. “You four get Arthur out of that damn room while I help Dutch! We need to get everyone outta here before the roof comes in on us.”

Dutch and Colm were still wrestling, flames getting dangerous close and licking at their clothes. With their orders clear, the gang moved hastily. John, Javier, and William rushed to the door. With the handle no longer an option, they readied up to slam there shoulders into it together.

“On three,” John shouted, shoulder fixed in front of the door. “One, two, three!”

They smashed against the wood, splintering it as its hinges groaned.

“_Again!_ One, two, three!”

Another crash before they repeated the action

“As hard as you can! One, two, _three!”_

The door gave in and swung open, revealing a room nearly consumed in fire. Maebh rushed inside despite the dangers, despite the smoke that consumed her vision and caused her to choke. Arthur lay on the ground, dazed, sweating, and still mostly out of it. She called his name but he didn’t respond, only started to cough as all air was swiftly sucked from the room.

John was quick to action. “We gotta move him, Maebh! C’mon!”

Together, they took one of his arms each and wrapped them around their shoulders. They began to haul him out of the room, William and Javier lifting his legs and leading the way out. The place was nearly consumed in thick, black smoke, the ungodly heat too much to bear even in nothing but her nightwear. Every breath burned her lungs, the smoke choking and scalding her all at once.

She caught sight of Hosea pulling Dutch off of Colm and shoving him towards the exit. “Leave him before you’re buried in here! Get outside!”

Maebh barely caught a brief glimpse of a spluttering and injured Colm, moving to escape through a nearby window. She paid him no mind, focusing instead on getting the love of her life to safety. It was so dark she could barely see through the plumes. The house may have been small, but she couldn’t see two feet in front of her. The cries of Dutch’s and Hosea’s voices over the snapping and popping of the fire was their key to the outside. They followed the sounds in order to find the door and rushed towards their only way out. The floor burned at her feet, the smoke was doing its best to suffocate her, but she had to get out — they _all_ had to make it. With whatever energy she had left, she pressed onwards and finally broke through the open door.

The cool mountain air hit her like a freight train. It filled her lungs and even still all energy left her body as they roughly set Arthur down on the damp grass. Behind them, she caught sight of the bright flames and black smoke, billowing out of the windows and towering over the home. A wall of fire blocked the entrances as it lit up the mountain side. The remaining horses were scattered, neighing wildly and running from the burning building. The heat that permeated from the wreck was overwhelming, exhausting. She had been inside for mere moments but felt as though it had been hours. The darkness, the heat — oh God, the _heat_.

“Is everyone alright?” Dutch asked, the first to speak as everyone wheezed and heaved in fresh air. They lay on the ground, weary, disoriented, lucky to be alive. 

Hosea sighed and spoke with obvious sarcasm. “Looks like that’s the end of our agreement with the O’Driscolls.”

Snapping back into action, Maebh turned her attention to Arthur and found John already staring down at him in concern. She sat heavily by his side and put her hand to his cheek. “Arthur? Arthur, c’mon. Can you hear me?”

John was just as desperate and placed a tentative hand on his brother’s chest. “Wake the hell up, Morgan, c’mon. Please…”

Arthur’s eyelids fluttered as his chest heaved up and down, his union suit burned and dirty. He looked roughed up with welts and cuts from where the O’Driscolls had jumped him. With a ragged, tired voice, he managed to murmur. “Maebh?”

Oh God, she could cry. Hell, she probably was crying already. She couldn’t distinguish between the tears and sweat on her face beneath the soot and dirt. John hung his headin relief while she held Arthur’s hand in hers. “You’re alright, we got you out.”

“He’s okay,” John informed the others with a thick voice. “He’s okay.”

They gathered around him, but Maebh barely registered any of them bar her brother. He wrapped an arm around her, face swollen and dirty after their ordeal. He looked like shit, so she could only assume that she looked worse for wear too.

Through the darkness, Mac reappeared, out of breath and visibly angry. “Is everyone okay? I lost sight of that slippery bastard. It was like he just vanished into the darkness.”

“Never mind him now,” Dutch said, looking around the scene in confusion. “I don’t think Colm and Matthew will be regroupin’ anytime soon.  The Hennigans blew his cover so he ain’t got nothin’ left.  Looks like their partnership is over.”

“We need to get him away from this fire,” Hosea stated, trying to take command as everyone got their breath back. “Where are the others?”

“I sent them to the Mahogany Mountains,” John explained. “And said that we’d meet them there before sunrise.”

“We should gather the horses,” Dutch added, struggling to get to his feet. “And head over there as soon as we can. We need water and rest.” He turned to John, Javier, and Mac. With a meaningful nod, he continued on. “Thank you, boys. We would’ve been dead if it weren’t for you.”

Maebh stared down at Arthur as he looked around with dazed eyes. She placed a kiss on the palm of his hand, clutching it tightly to find some sort of comfort and perhaps offer him the same feeling. Her gaze drifted to John who sat on the other side of him. The second his brown eyes met hers, she lost it. She pulled him into a tight hug, thanking him over and over as she finally fell apart and everything hit her all at once. He didn’t say anything. Instead he wrapped his arms around her and embraced her just as tightly. 

With the immediate threat diminished and their adrenaline seeping away, they shared their overwhelming relief together, mildly comforted in the knowledge that they were all somehow still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, me nerves are gone. They've never deserved a holiday in Tahiti more than they do now.


	38. A Lonely Impulse of Delight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maebh ponders the affects of their close call on her brother's mindset, and finds solace in Arthur's company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this chapter! If it's any consolation, it's a good 8k words long so... I've had a bit of a busy week. It's my birthday on Saturday so I was trying to see a few of my friends according to lockdown guidelines which took up a couple of days from me ha Hopefully the delay hasn't deterred anyone from reading. I'm hoping you's are still out there! I promise this chapter will make up for it. I would love to hear any and all thoughts if you's have some (pretty please xo). Thanks as always to those who have stuck around and continue to support this story!  
Also sidenote, we have just surpassed this story's one year anniversary which is kinda crazy!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “The Water Below” — Another Sky, “Hurt” — Johnny Cash, “Lorena” — Jay Ungar, “#41” — Dave Matthews Band

Arthur’s head was pounding. He groaned, the deep throbbing sensation forcing him out of whatever restless sleep had befallen him. Distant voices crept up, their words muddled in his hazy mind. One of them was familiar despite his inability to place the owner. They called his name with apparent urgency and the sound held so many underlying memories for him. 

Suddenly the realisation dawned on him and he managed to say their name in a weak voice. “Maebh?”

With that, his eyes faded to blackness yet again.

* * *

It was still dark when Maebh saw the other gang members again. They were sheltered under the trees that lay below Big Mahogany Mountain. The relief that consumed them was immense, Abigail being the first person to greet her with a big hug that she sorely needed. She was even relieved to see John which was a nice change from their usual squabbling. It was overwhelming seeing everyone safe and sound despite what had happened. Bar some cuts and bruises for Sean, everyone was fine physically. The most upsetting part for her was that no one had seen Copper. Whether he had run off or was killed by the O’Driscolls was unclear and the uncertainty hurt the most. The group with whom Maebh returned had managed to gather as many of the horses as they could — Arthur being carefully placed into Boadicea’s saddle — and a couple of bedrolls and tents. Finding Dullahan nearly set her off crying again but she tried to keep it together while calming her favourite mare down with pats and affectionate words.

“If I could have a word with all’a you,” Dutch began, addressing everyone with his usual assertive nature. They gathered around as he began a short speech. “Listen for a moment. I know tonight has been tough. We have had a bad couple of days, no doubt. We lost an… important person, an important part of this family. I loved Annabelle and losin’ her, it ain’t been easy but we are _safe_, alright? Ain’t no one followin’ us now that Colm and Matthew have been knocked back and their numbers lowered. Even if they do come lookin’ for us, well, we’ll be long gone again they get here. 

“I know a place we can head to up north in Montana that Hosea and I will be discussin’ further. It’ll give us an opportunity to earn ourselves some money. In a little while, I want to go back to that house with some folks and gather the last of our belongin’s. At dawn we’ll find some food, eat a hot meal, and head out later in the day. Mr. Pearson, Miss Grimshaw, you come with me back to the house — I’ll need your help to turn this spot into a temporary camp. All’a you, rest up. Whoever wants to come back to the house can but I want everyone who is injured to see to your wounds now and get some rest. Stay _strong_, stay with me. We ain’t done yet!”

After Dutch’s attempt at a reassuring speech, some of the more eager members of the gang set out to gather the rest of their belongings left behind at the charred remains of the house. Maebh promised to go later once she had tended to her brother’s wounds. While they were gone, it started to rain. Those who remained at their temporary camp sought shelter under the small amount of tents they had for the moment. Maebh found herself sitting in a tent with her brother and a sleeping Arthur. They had thrown shirts on over their nightwear to stay warm. She stared at him sombrely, afraid to touch him yet her hand aching to do just that. She busied herself with cleaning her brothers injuries. The swollen lump on his jaw had her clenching her teeth. He was attending to the cuts on her arms when she noticed the undeniably hollow look in his eyes.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, eying him curiously.

“A lot,” he admitted, glancing at Arthur. “My throat still burns and my jaw is throbbin’ but I’m alive, amen’t I?”

“Thanks to Marston and Javier.”

William grimaced. “Ugh, why does it _always_ have to be Marston.”

“… And Javier?”

“Yeah, but _Marston_.”

“Jaysus, you’re viscerally angry towards that fella.”

William held up three fingers. “He shagged my sister — _repeatedly_ — he ran away from camp and abandoned his woman and child, _and_ he had the audacity to punch me in the face. The fella has a bleedin’ death wish.”

She peered at him hopefully. “But…?”

The young man rolled his eyes. “_But_ now I owe him with my life. Just when I have every reason to hate him, he goes off and does somethin’ good.”

“Who would’ve thought?”

William shook his head. “Not _me_. I’ve already thanked Javier and Mac too but I’ll talk to John eventually. I’ve too much of a headache to deal with him right now.”

“You take all the time you need. I think we’ve been through enough for one night.”

“I think we’ve been through enough for a lifetime,” he countered, then sighed and looked away wistfully. “I would be happy if I never had to deal with shite like this again.”

“You?” Maebh asked. “Mr. Hennigan who kills without remorse?”

“To save my friends,” he corrected her. “I don’t take any pleasure in killin’ innocent fellas and I certainly don’t take any pleasure in bein’ trapped in a house fire and beaten to a pulp.”

“I feel like askin’ if you’re okay is a stupid question.”

He smirked. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate your concern. I’m just tired of everythin’. I wish we had some time to not worry for once — no O’Driscolls, no Lawmen, no financial troubles, y’know?”

“I know and I agree.” She gently squeezed his hand as he finished off cleaning her arm. “But we’re okay, right?”

William looked into her eyes, his red rimmed and strained with exhaustion. The forming welts and bruises that marred his features couldn’t hide the sadness he seemed to feel. “Sure.”

Before he could say much else, Tilly stuck her head into the tent. Her eyes briefly flitted between the siblings before saying. “Oh, sorry. Am I interruptin’?”

“No,” Maebh assured her and William straightened up in his seat. “You’re welcome to join. How’re you doin’, Tilly?”

“I can’t sleep,” she admitted and sat next to them. “I know Dutch wants us to rest before the rest of us head back to the house to collect our supplies but I can’t manage it.”

“Me neither,” William agreed. “We’ve all been through a lot I suppose.”

Tilly nodded. “That’s one way of puttin’ it. I think we all deserve a break.”

“Especially you after gettin’ the whole gang to safety. That was brave.”

“I wasn’t about to let folks try make it on their own.”

“Just like when you saved me and Marston from the Foreman Boys.”

“I suppose so. I’ll always do what I can to help the gang and if I get to kill a few O’Driscolls while I’m at it then I won’t complain.”

They shared a small laugh while Maebh looked between them in amusement.

“But how’re you two doin’?” Tilly asked. “You both got beat up pretty bad.”

“I’m fine,” Maebh waved her off. “He got the worst of it and a boot to the face as well.”

“They did _what?”_

“I’m alright,” William insisted, giving his sister a wry look. “I’ll survive and my face will recover. I might have a few little rugged scars to show off, who knows.”

With a roll of the eyes, Maebh got to her feet. “I’m goin’ to get some fresh air while you’s two chat. Could you keep an eye on him for me please, William?”

She gestured to Arthur and the younger man nodded. “No bother. Don’t be too long. You should get some rest before you go back to that house later.”

“It’s good to see you alive and well, Maebh,” Tilly said with a smile. “Really.”

Maebh grinned as she pulled up the flap of their tent. “You too, Tilly.”

She slipped out into the night, happier after seeing William finally crack a genuine grin after all that had happened. Either way, his despondent attitude wasn’t lost on her as she took a stroll around the makeshift camp. Walking amongst some shaded trees, she pulled out a cigarette and placed it between her lips. Before she could even light it, someone called her name.

“_Maebh!”_

She turned around to see John staring at her with wide eyes. She shrugged, cigarette hanging out of her mouth. “Wha?”

“Your back,” he said, turning her around to get a proper look. “It’s all bloody.”

Her adrenalin was still running so high, she barely even registered the pain. The blood must have seeped through to her clean shirt which wasn’t exactly ideal. “Oh. It probably happened when they dragged me along the floor.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see his jaw clenching. “You gotta get it cleaned before it gets infected. C’mon.”

His hand gently wrapped around hers and she allowed him to guide her towards a tent. “You’re gonna _what_ now?”

“I’m gonna clean your back. Now sit down.”

Within the tent, she spotted Abigail and Jack lying on a bedroll. She hesitated as she put the cigarette back in her pocket and gave John a look.

“They’re sleepin’,” he assured her in a whisper, gentle hands guiding her to another bedroll to sit down. “We won’t disturb ’em.”

Her voice was hushed. “Are you sure?”

“Well you can’t exactly take your shirt off outside in the rain, now can ya?”

“No…”

“So sit. I’ll look after you.” She followed his lead and took a seat on the bed. Rain drops gently pelted the tent above her head. “I’ll just get some water and then I’ll be back, okay?”

He returned quickly with two pails of water, some bandages, cloth, and a darker liquid in a vial — probably one of Hosea’s ginseng concoctions. 

She eyed John cautiously and he quickly twigged her uncertainty. “If you ain’t comfortable with me touchin’ you—”

“It’s not that — I trust you — I just don’t want to disturb them.”

“You won’t. Abigail wouldn’t like to think that I left you out there with your wounds.”

She didn’t argue with him. Instead, she accepted his help by carefully peeling her shirt off over her head. With the fabric covering her eyes, she felt his rough hands helping to ease the clothing off. She gathered it between her arms, hiding her breasts from his gaze — not that she thought he was looking. 

He took a seat behind her and murmured. “I’m just gonna pull your nightshirt up over your head, okay?”

She gave him a nod of approval and allowed him to do what he needed to do. She felt the material catch on her broken skin and winced.

“Sorry, darlin’. I’m tryin’ to be gentle.”

She bit her lip, sharp jolts of pain flying up through her skin. A whimper escaped her as he pushed the material up to bunch at the top of her back. She felt his hand softly grasp her bicep to offer some sort of comfort as he guided the garment over her head with the other. She gathered it around her chest as a few tears wet her cheeks.

“You’re alright,” John said behind her, his voice uncharacteristically tender. “I just have to clean the scratches now.” She waited as he washed his hands and prepared the cloth for cleaning. “Do you wanna stop?”

She slowly shook her head. “No, just be gentle.”

“Of course.”

She heard him dip a cloth into the bucket of water, droplets dribbling back inside. The hot liquid met her back and she let out an involuntary hiss.

“I’m sorry,” he said sympathetically. “I got the water from a little lake nearby but boiled it over the campfire. It’s safe to use but I know it ain’t comfortable.”

“I’d rather it be hot than cold.” She chuckled weakly and tried to hold back from wincing as he gentling dabbed the cloth on her broken skin. “How bad does it look?”

“Not the worst but it does look sore. How did you say you got this again?”

“When those O’Driscolls showed up,” she began. “They pulled me out of the cot by my hair and dragged me into the other room. I fought them but I’m guessin’ my back didn’t do so well on the wooden floor.”

John grew tense, breathing heavier as she explained her story. “Those bastards. I’m glad I shot ’em but they deserved worse. At least we won’t have to deal with them anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah. From what I heard, it seems that Colm and Matthew’s partnership is over.”

“And you think that’ll deter Colm from fighting us? We’re locked in a blood feud with those O’Driscolls that I doubt is goin’ to go away anytime soon.”

“You’re probably right, but I doubt he’ll be as eager to cross us now.”

“Maybe,” was all she could say in response, her mind miles away as he gently dabbed her cuts. “Hopefully you’re right.”

“I’m right sometimes, you know.”

A silence stretched out between them while she thought on their situation. He seemed focused on her back instead. Her consuming thoughts were enough to distract her from the searing cuts. He was attentive and gentle, something she greatly appreciated given how sensitive she felt. Perhaps her exhaustion and frustration were making the whole thing more painful than normal. She wouldn’t be surprised. It was a while later when he put the used cloth away and rubbed some of the elixir on the broken skin.

“Your back ain’t too bad now that I got them clean and treated,” he noted. “They should heal up okay, no scars or stitches or anythin’. I’ll put the bandages on them now okay? …Maebh?”

“Hmm?” She snapped out of her thoughts, suddenly aware that he was waiting for a response. Looking over her shoulder, she met his concerned eyes.

“We’re okay,” he assured her in a soft voice. “We made it outta there.”

“But are we really?”

“We will be. We’ve gotten out of worse scrapes.”

“Annabelle didn’t make it out and a whole load of us nearly died. What the hell is goin’ t’happen to us now? I seems like it’s always somethin’ lately, John. There’s always someone after us. After the O’Driscolls, who else will it be? What about the law?”

“You can’t spend your time worryin’ about what might happen,” he replied, carefully wrapping bandages over her sterilised wounds. “You’ll drive yourself mad doin’ that.”

“How am I meant to _not_ think about it?”

“Focus on what you’ve still got; your brother, Arthur, all of us. We still made it out and we need to try stick together.”

“_I’m_ the reason my brother ended up in this situation in the first place. I want him to have a good life, not be constantly lookin’ over his shoulder for the rest of existence. Bessie told me years ago that this life wouldn’t last and maybe she was right.”

She watched him frown while he collected his thoughts. His large hands finished covered up the cuts and gently rested on her back. “Look, I know it’s hard. Do you think I’ve never had my doubts? I got plenty of them and some days are worse than others. Hell, I ran off for a year because of those doubts, but I don’t wanna lose… I ain’t about to leave you or anyone else to deal with this on their own.”

“We’d be dead if it wasn’t for you and Javier,” she stated after a moment. “We would’ve perished in that fire otherwise.” 

“You can always count on me to have your back. Uh, no pun intended.”

He laughed softly but she didn’t have it in her to do the same. The memories from earlier hovered over her head like a threatening black cloud on the horizon, waiting for the opportune moment to unleash the heavens upon unsuspecting people below. She could already feel that tightness in her chest growing and spreading up her throat, the soreness in her back no longer the most pressing issue on her mind.

“When I was in that house,” she began, surprised by the tremble in her voice. “I thought I’d never leave that darkness. That was where I was goin’ to die — in a room so consumed with smoke and flame I could barely see my hand in front of my face. I dragged William into yet another death trap. It was my fault we were there in the first place. I thought I was goin’ t’die, I thought we _all_ were.” She paused, trying to catch her breath as that tightness in her chest consumed her throat. “I wasted so much time not tellin’ Arthur how I felt about him and now he was goin’ to die when we’d only just realised how stupid we’d been. I thought I’d lost him. And you — you had only just come home and now I was goin’ to lose you too. All of the gang, and William... It’s _my_ fault. It’s my damn fault that my little brother nearly died. He... Oh, God. I never wanted this for him. Had you not shown up when you did… Oh, _God!_ It’s my _fault! _It’s my—”

Her breaths came short and quick, eyes stinging as tears suddenly started to fall. She imagined herself in the blackness again, smoke twisting around her in threatening tendrils ready to squeeze the very life from her. The sobs that came from her mouth were uncontrollable and she made a weak attempt to cover her mouth with a shaking hand. Whether it was the shock wearing off or panic smothering her, she didn’t know. 

She was vaguely aware of John speaking and a shuffling behind her. Suddenly his lithe arms wrapped around her chest and his front pressed lightly against her back.

“Oh, my darlin’,” he whispered, chin resting on her bare shoulder as he hugged her tight. “You’re okay, Maebh, you’re okay. I’ve got you. Don’t cry.”

She cried and cried, hugging her body and pulling her knees to her chest.

“I missed you,” she managed to get out between whimpers, words thick. “I’m glad you came home, John. Otherwise—”

“Hey now, none’a that. I wasn’t about to leave my best friend behind, now was I?” He pressed his lips into her left temple and murmured softly. “I missed you too.”

John’s arms rested atop hers, gently easing her into a soothing rocking motion. She wasn’t exactly sure how long he held her or how long her tears fell freely. As she eventually calmed, he took it as a prime opportunity to wake Abigail. He asked her to stay with Maebh while he went to fetch William and she didn’t even hesitate. John’s hold was soon replaced with Abigail’s.

“I know, I know,” she said soothingly, tone sympathetic and tired. “We have to get through this together, you hear me? We’ll be alright. I know things seem hopeless right now, but we’ll be okay; you, your brother, and Arthur — all of us.”

As she spoke, Abigail gently pulled her nightshirt back over her, along with the thicker shirt that was still mildly bloodstained. When John returned with William he took his sister into his arms and hugged her until the crying stopped, even as his own tears fell in the process. The day left Maebh exhausted. Everything seemed to fall on her at once — all of her woes and worries. It had been a bad day, one of the worst, but everyone kept saying the same thing.

They would be okay.

* * *

When Arthur later managed to open his eyes, he was met with a harsh light. It caused him to squint, amplifying the headache that refused to leave. He managed to take in his surrounds with more effort than usual. He appeared to be lying in a small tent, a soft bedroll beneath him. Outside, the sun was rising and birds were chirping.

The sight of the slowly swaying trees triggered a memory from the night before of him going out to the latrine and being grabbed and quickly knocked unconscious by a bunch of armed men. A blurry vision of Matthew standing over him crossed his vision and he jolted upwards, a move he immediately regretted.

There was someone there to calm with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, relax there. Take it easy.”

He blinked and found Maebh staring back at him with a concerned expression covering her tired face. The confused relief that flooded him was almost instantaneous. “Awh, my damn head…”

“You’ve got a nasty bump on there. Lay back down. How are you feelin’?”

He followed her instructions willingly and admittedly felt a little better. He felt her hand rest on top of his and was happy to wrap his fingers around hers. “My head is poundin’, so not great. What the hell happened?”

“A lot,” was her somber reply. “The O’Driscolls jumped us in the middle of the night. Everyone made it out but… They tried to kill us, Arthur, tried to burn us down in that abandoned buildin’. You nearly died in there.”

The confession made him gulp. He had no memory of what she was saying but he never doubted her for one moment. It was unnerving to think that he had come so close to death and yet he couldn’t recall the event for the life of him. Maybe he was better off, but what he did recall was Matthew’s face. 

“They grabbed me when I was comin’ back from the latrine,” he explained slowly, trying to gather his thoughts. “They hit me in the head and the last thing I remember is that Matthew bastard standin’ over me with that smirk on his face.” He turned his head towards her and added. “How the hell did we get out of there?”

A small smile flashed over her lips before she answered. “John and Javier managed to get us out. Tilly lead the gang away to safety while they rescued us. Matthew got away even though Mac tried to go after him, as did Colm. If it wasn’t for all of them, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

Arthur listened as intently as he could while she ran through the events of last night in more detail. He was relieved, shocked, and angry all at once. He wished Mac had managed to put a bullet in Matthew. Hell, he wished he had been conscious to do it himself! They were currently camped out between Big Mahogany and Little Mahogany mountain, east of the burned down house. 

“A few of us went back to gather what we could,” she explained. “Most of the tents and wagons were undamaged and we gathered all the horses that were scattered — we even found a confused Copper not too far away, thank God — but everythin’ inside the house is gone. The journal you were writin’ in, some of our clothes, books, not to mention half the camp funds that Dutch had hidden inside. He says we still have some money from Arizona to keep us tied over, but it’ll run out eventually. I suppose we’re still lucky given that a load of us should be dead right now.”

Arthur lamented the loss of some of his personal items, but felt lucky to still be alive despite that. Clothes and books could be replaced overtime — as could the money — but had he woken up to discover that one of his loved ones had passed… That was inconceivable to him. At the end of the day, a concussion, irritated eyes, and shortness of breath wasn’t the worst thing to happen to him. They were only temporary. 

She got to her feet and informed him that she would go get Dutch, who was understandably eager to see that he was alright and it showed when she returned with him in tow.

“Arthur,” he sighed, sitting down next to him. “My boy, my dear boy… It is good to see you awake again.”

“Apparently I missed a lot while I was out,” he replied, slightly surprised by his gravelly tone. “With Matthew and them O’Driscolls.”

“It was nothin’ worth seein’, I can assure you of that. How’re you doin’, son?”

“My head hurts, my eyes hurt, and my throat and nose hurt. But I’m alive.”

“That you are,” Dutch agreed and placed a hand on his forehead. “We have John, Javier, and Mac to thank for that. Things could’a been very different.”

Arthur couldn’t help but grimace at the sound of Marston’s name. “What about the money, Dutch? Maebh said we lost some of it. What’s the plan?”

The older man sighed. “Unfortunately we did, but don’t you worry; you know I always have a plan. I’ve discussed it with Hosea and we think our best course of action is to keep headin’ north. There’s a spot we picked that’ll probably take us a week and a half to get to, give or take. We ain’t settled in Montana in some time, so I’m hopin’ we can get in, earn some money, and buy a plot land. That way we can live in peace and away from those who think differently. Just have faith, Arthur. We’ll get through this.”

“You ain’t about to get any doubt from me,” he replied. “When do we head out?”

“Today, but you’ll be travelling in the back of one of the wagons. I want you to rest up lest you push yourself too hard.”

“I’m fine. Really, I’m—” Despite his insistence, he started to cough. Maebh was right there with a cup of water, helping him to sip it and ease his scratching throat.

Dutch looked at him with a mix of worry and pity. “You were sayin’?”

Arthur groaned. “Never mind…”

Dutch hummed and got to his feet. “You rest up while we get ready to head out. I’ll let the others know that you’re okay. You are lucky to have that wonderful woman by your side, Arthur.”

“Don’t I know it,” he managed to get out with a small chuckle. “I’m one lucky sonuvabitch.”

It wasn’t long after their encounter that sleep overtook him once more. When he awoke sometime later, he was being helped into the back of a wagon by some of the gang. His memory was too foggy to make out the faces that were relieved to see him. The one he did recognise was Maebh as she and Copper sat by his side until he slipped away again.

* * *

A few days later as the gang crossed the border into Idaho, Arthur felt mostly back to normal. The amount of rest he was being forced to take seemed to do him a world of good and he was finally able to wander around their temporary camp without assistance or without turning into a spluttering, wheezing mess. He was also happy to be riding on Boadicea again instead of being segregated to the wagon. He had missed his girl and seeing her again after all they had been through in Utah hit him harder than expected. Another thing that bothered him was his lack of a journal. He still had some of his older ones, but the one that Maebh gifted him was lost in the fire. That meant that the majority of his sketches of her had perished too. He didn’t yet have it in him to purchase a new one and try to refill the pages yet again, too busy mourning the loss of those drawings that always brought a smile to his face. Maybe someday he would start one again.

The gang were happy to see him up and about and regularly made conversation with him to express their relief. Despite the unfortunate events that had befallen them, some people were eager to try raise spirits again. He had already spoken to those who helped get him out of that fire — everyone but Marston.

The kid was obviously hesitant around him, though how could Arthur blame him? He had made himself clear that their relationship was not what it once was. Too much strainand a sense of betrayal after John’s departure left him bitter and annoyed, but he hadn’t been expecting to be rescued from a burning building…

They took a brief break on their travels to allow the horses a moment’s rest. Some of the gang took the opportunity to eat some food and freshen up. John was sat by a river, using the fresh water to clean grime off his face as Arthur approached. Before he could announce himself, he noticed a perturbed William coming down to the bank.

“Hey, Marston!”

John whipped around and grimaced at the sight of the Irishman. “Yeah?”

William halted next to him, hands on his hips. “Look, I don’t like you, and you don’t like me.”

“Wait, you don’t—?”

“That’s just the way it is, but I wanted to say.” He paused and looked up into the sky for a brief moment before continuing. “Thanks for savin’ us back in the house. I already had words with the others about it but I wanted t’say it to ye. We wouldn’t’ve made it outta there if it wasn’t for you.”

John was stunned to silence and Arthur couldn’t help but be a bit baffled himself. “Oh… Don’t mention it. You’d do the same for me.”

“I definitely owe you one anyway. It wasn’t just me you saved — you got my sister outta there too, and Arthur, Hosea, Dutch. It was gettin’ pretty dire before you’s showed up.”

“It seemed like it. So, we friends?”

“Jaysus, _no_,” William replied with a laugh. “I’ll never forgive you for ridin’ my sister despite me tellin’ you not to. I can say that we’re square though. I can be civil.”

His reply seemed to amuse John even if it wasn’t the answer he was lookin’ for. “I’ll take civil. I can do that.”

“Stay away from between her legs and we’re good.”

“Christ, Hennigan! I ain’t goin’ near her legs!”

“That’s all I needed to hear. But you still need to tell me who is the better kisser—”

“I ain’t kissin’ you, you dolt.”

“Or who has the better arse—”

“No chance!”

“Pfft, your loss, greasy. Enjoy the rest of your bath.”

Without another word, William returned to the gang with a skip in his step. Arthur could barely believe what he just witnessed. With a shake of the head, he lit a cigarette and cleared his throat to grab John’s attention.

“Mornin’,” Arthur greeted him casually, hoping that he wasn’t as awkward as he sounded. “Want a cigarette?”

John seemed uncertain as he stood upright. “Uh, sure.”

He handed him one of the cigarettes and lit it with the match he had been using. “So, you, uh, tryin’ to make your way through another Hennigan?”

His question caused John to choke on smoke. “What the— for God sakes, _no!_ I ain’t tryin’ to make my way through _any_ of them.”

“It’s just a _question_. All I was gonna say was that you should try keep your pecker in your pants — it only seems to cause you problems.”

“I could say the same about you, Morgan.” John took a few puffs before he changed the subject. “So… how’re you feelin’?”

“Better than I was,” Arthur said. “I ain’t seen much of you lately.”

John’s minute amount of confidence faded with his words. “I didn’t wanna bother you after the conversation we had back in the house.”

“I figured as much.” He paused to kick at a stone under his boot. “Maebh told me about what happened back there, about how you got us all out.”

“It weren’t just me. I wouldn’t have been able to do with without Javier, and Mac helped out too.”

“Yeah, but like William, I’ve already spoken to them about it. I ain’t spoken to you.”

“I thought you wanted me to leave you alone after _everythin’_.”

“I did and then you went and saved us from those crazy bastards.” Arthur took a long drag before he forced himself to continue. “Goddamn typical…”

“I wasn’t about to run off and leave everyone for dead.”

“I know that now,” he replied with no jest in his voice. “Thank you, really.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Marston’s lips. “Don’t worry about it. Like I told Willie, you’d do the same for me.”

“Maybe, I ain’t decided yet.”

John let out a wheeze. “C’mon. I ain’t a complete idiot.”

Arthur pointed a finger at him as he started to retreat back up the bank. “That remains to be seen, but feel free to prove me wrong.”

“Sure thing, old man.”

While it wasn’t a complete turn around in their relationship, Arthur was happy with their conversation. He missed the days where he felt unconditional love for his brother. It was odd how decisions could change things so drastically after how close they were. Part of him ached to have that bond back but he needed time. If John went on to be a man and look after his woman and child, then who knows? He was glad now that at least they had the time to repair things after escaping death once more.

* * *

They were camping under the stars in Idaho that night. 

Maebh had a long day of travel and was more than happy to be finally relaxing with Arthur by her side. They had been moving northwards for about a week. Her mood hadn’t improved all that much since Utah, although she supposed that might have been to do with the shock gradually wearing off. Most of the other gang members seemed to be in the same boat. She certainly knew William was. It was hard to not have most of her attention focused on her little brother. When she wasn’t hovering around a recovering Arthur, she was anxiously eying William as he went about his day, far more reserved than usual and seemingly lost in his thoughts. She tried to put it down to trauma after what happened to them — just like everyone else was currently suffering — but there was that nagging part in her mind that pondered over whether it was something more. Arthur was far more resilient so she embraced the luxury of worrying over him less.

With the whole camp having retired to bed, she stayed in Arthur’s temporary tent. It was smaller than his usual set up — only a little A-frame to share — but as long as he was by her side she wasn’t complaining. William had replaced her with Copper in his own tent, explaining that he found it difficult to sleep alone but insisting that she stay with Arthur regardless. According to him, he would rather she took some time away from him to relax. It was exactly like him to insist on such a thing, but the smile that didn’t reach his eyes lay heavily on her mind.

“You could use some quality time with him,” he said, standing firm. “And you can do all the ridin’ you want without me around.”

He earned himself a punch in the shoulder for his words. 

_Then again… Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea?_

“How’re you feelin’?” Maebh asked Arthur in the darkness. 

He lay with his hands resting under his head, much more relaxed than he had been since the house fire. “Good. My head doesn’t hurt as much anymore, cuts and bruises are healin’ up. It’s been nice not havin’ those O’Driscolls on our trail anymore.”

“Yeah. Hopefully this is the start of more relaxin’ days without them around.”

“Ain’t no need to worry. Dutch has a plan to get us back on our feet again.”

She admired his optimism but wished that she felt the same. “Any chance you could share some of that confidence?”

He grinned at her in response. “I’d happily share anythin’ I can with you.”

“Hmm… Even your journal?”

That earned a bigger laugh from him. “Showin’ you all those drawin’s in the lake wasn’t good enough, huh?”

“I’m always partial to havin’ a look at somethin’ you’ve created.”

“Well if I hadn’t lost it in the damn fire I would happily let you look again.”

“Maybe that’s an excuse for you to get a new one?”

“Maybe someday. Think you could share some more of your stories with me in the meantime? Been a while since you wrote anythin’.”

“It was kinda hard to think about writin’ while we were on the run. I’ll see how I’m feelin’ when we settle in Montana and things quieten down.”

“Good. It might help you smile again. I do miss that smile a’yours.”

He gently cupped her cheek in his large hand and she frowned. She steadied herself as she started to speak quietly. “I thought I lost you back there. I really didn’t think we would make it out.”

“I know,” he agreed, voice low. “I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t thinkin’ the same thing. Butit don’t matter — we made it out together.”

The near escape made everything worse, more intense. Her emotions seemed to be constantly spilling over. If she wasn’t breaking down in front of John or watching William like he was a delicate crystal glass, she was overthinking and consumed with horrible thoughts of what her life would be like had she lost those she cared for, had she lost Arthur. Jesus, she had only just _found_ him. So much wasted time tiptoeing around each other, so much doubting when she should have given him the benefit of the doubt instead. How much simpler could things be had she been honest with him earlier. Wasting time was a hindrance of which she would rather be rid. She wanted to look back on her life knowing that she deserved more than wistful fantasies and what ifs. She owed it to herself to be honest with what was lying in front of her — agood man who made her feel like the many dreadful days she experienced were manageable and worth it in the end.

With her thoughts swirling, the words wouldn’t come, not the right ones anyway. She did the next best thing and tried to communicate those feelings with a kiss. Arthur’s lips were soft and his beard rough on her skin, the contrast so unexpectedly delicious that her cheeks grew hot. His hand suddenly grasped her hip as hers slid over his broad shoulders. They had kissed many times, taken advantage of the privacy of his tent many times, but this felt different, more desperate. Her heart was already racing, the thumping ringing in her ears. It was so loud she wondered whether he could hear it too.

He pulled back for a moment, eyes flitting over her face with his lips slightly parted. “Maybe I’m readin’ this wrong but are you sure?”

She smiled as she answered him. “No, you’re not readin’ this wrong, and yes, I am. You started it back in that house. I’m sure if you’re sure too.”

He almost didn’t believe her but seemed willing to try. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Then c’mere to me.”

She didn’t delay in kissing him with added passion, gently slipping her tongue passed him lips and rousing a deep rumble from his chest. Those deep kisses where she could barely figure out where she ended and he began were his specialty. He met her with equal excitement. Gone were the days when she would hold his hand and he would automatically stiffen. He was a man starved for affection and she was more than happy to oblige and let him take control. His body suddenly moved above hers, their lips never parting and his hands starting to wander. Her mind already felt like mush, reminiscent of nights she had drank her weight in whiskey. Eager to see more of him, she moved to undo the buttons on his union suit, hesitating as he jumped. 

His hands gently covered hers, a touch of uncertainty in his tone. His vulnerable eyes met hers. “I ain’t much to look at.”

“You’re beautiful, Arthur,” she whispered, fingers still on the buttons. “I’ll go first if it’ll help.”

He barely had a chance to respond before she was pulling her nightshirt off over her head, chest bare for him to see. It seemed to do the trick. He stared at her breasts wide-eyed before crushing his lips against hers again. He didn’t need more permission than she had already given. A shiver ran through her as his palms covered her chest, fingers carefully brushing against her nipples until they were hard. She moaned into his mouth and he grinned.

“You’ll have to be quiet, Maebh,” he said, lips barely touching hers as they breathed in the same air. “Unless you want the whole camp to hear.”

“You’re tryin’ to drive me mad.”

“After how much time I spent lookin’ at you in camp and picturin’ you under me, I think we’re about even.”

His admittance actually made her jaw drop. Unwilling to delay further, she hastily undid his buttons with shaking hands, unveiling that hairy and muscled chest of his. Her fingers touched his bare skin, heat billowing from him as he began to shimmy out of his pyjamas with eager clumsiness. It was like they had both reached their limit — pent up sexual tension that had gone on for literal _years_ had consumed them whole. She could already feel his arousal pressing against her thigh. Maebh kissed him hard, blood pumping and aching in her abdomen. She barely noticed the cool air of the night against the contrast of his body heat. As he awkwardly kicked off his pyjamas, she gave just attention to his chest, kissing him all over and rousing shivers from him.

“Are you tryin’ to kill me here, sweetheart?”

“I could say the same thing to you.”

“Oh really?”

She hissed as his hand found its way between her legs, caressing her through the fabric of her undergarments. As he found a maddening rhythm, he dipped his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth. Fiery heat flooded her body, overwhelming her senses and making her desperate for more. Biting her lips held back her moans as she was hyper aware that their friends weren’t exactly far away.

“Next time we do this,” she managed to get out shakily as her hands gripped his muscular back. “We’re goin’ to a hotel.”

He chuckled and looked up at her. “We can arrange that.”

Evening the playing field, she grasped his hard length in her hand. He jumped as she pumped him eagerly, fighting back by pulling the last of her night clothes away and leaving them both stark naked. Their daring touches had them both fumbling, Arthur insistent on making her ready for him even though she was already throbbing with want. She jerked him until he was breathing heavily against her skin, fingers moving quicker against her before he slid one inside her.

“Oh God,” he murmured, a twinge of surprise hidden beneath his thick groan. “You really want me, huh?”

It wasn’t a time to be shy, so she didn’t hold back. “I wasn’t jokin’ before. I thought I lost you, Arthur.”

He studied her closely and kissed her lips. “I’m right here and I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

They worked each other insistently until Maebh felt herself nearing completion. Arthur relished in her touch but pushed her hand away after a moment. He kissed over her collarbone, moving down to her breasts, then her stomach but didn’t get further before she was pulling him back up to face her.

“Somethin’ wrong?” he asked with genuine concern.

She shook her head. “No. I just want you now. We’ll have time for that again later, but I need you.”

“I ain’t about to deny you.”

His chest pressed against her breasts, lightheadedness consuming her as he fixed himself between her legs. She spread them for him so eagerly that she knew she’d be blushing about it tomorrow morning. But for now, nerves were overtaken by the desire to feel him inside her after all this time, to finally have a moment that was well and truly theirs.

With his large arms wrapped around her, he pushed inside. He heaved roughly, cursing under his breath while her eyes slid closed. Pleasure seeped through her body, flying down her veins and very nearly causing her to moan loudly. Part of her really, _really_ wanted to throw caution to the wind and say ‘fuck it’. Their desperation was only growing with each passing second.

“_Goddamn_,” he sighed, breath fanning over her face. “I already got you so ready for me and you’re still this tight?”

She looked up at him teasingly. “Maybe it’s _you_ who’s just too damn _big. _Ever thought of that?”

The chuckle that escaped him made her smile. He paused for a brief moment to let her adjust before his shaking arms began too much. “I love you, Maebh.”

Her reply came with no hesitance. “I love you too.”

His hips began to move, pulling his whole length out of her before plunging back inside. She whimpered with each thrust, barely able to focus at all. Instead she clung to him as he picked up the pace, the slight burn quickly replaced with pleasure that shot up her arched back. His large hands clutched her body, mindful of her bandages but sure to leave bruises in the most intimate of places. Her legs wound around his waist and pulled him closer, enthusiastic for more. Their movements were frantic, needy, any previous yearning to take it slow completely abandoned by both parties as their desire took over. 

She knew they weren’t about to last long but she didn’t care. She was too relieved, too excited, too immeasurably happy to be with him like this, to share their love without a single worry.

He worked her hard but held back just enough that he didn’t hurt her. His hands ran all over her and left goosebumps in their wake. He eagerly grasped her rear as she started to work against him, meeting him with each thrust. 

He let out a curse, face flushed as he neared his release. “I ain’t gonna last much longer.”

She wasn’t sure how long it had been but she didn’t care. She was so close to coming that she wanted to reach out and touch it and finally fall apart under him like she was supposed to do.

“Me too,” she groaned and let her hands slide down to rest on his backside. His cheeks tensed under her touch. “Touch me, please. Arthur—”

“I can do you one better.”

He shifted position and rutted his hips harshly. The change caused his body to brush against her clit and give her a surge in pleasure. She cried out as he pumped in and out of her, grunting with each shove. It didn’t take much longer for her to tense and clench around him. His forehead rested against hers as she came, those familiar waves rushing through her body in rhythmic bursts that flooded her whole frame. She let out a breathy moan that resembled his name and it seemed to spur him on. With a few more thrusts he wretched himself from her hold and grasped himself in his fist. One hand was propped beside her woozy head as he roughly pumped himself to completion, coming on her stomach as he gasped repeatedly and shivered. He could barely hold his own weight as he came down from his high, and she accepted his body with open arms as he slumped against her. His arms held her tight while their breathing calmed, their hearts finally slowing as the shockwaves inside them faded away. He raised his head with effort to meet her eyes and his face appeared utterly sated and relaxed. The sight made her smile uncontrollably and pull him into a softer kiss.

Neither of them needed to say anything. Their actions had been enough for both of them to understand how much they needed each other. All she could ponder was that he had such an exceptional ability to make her profoundly happy despite her worries.

She was beginning to realise that perhaps she was doing the same for him.

How lucky she was to have met a man like Arthur Morgan and have him return her love with nothing but sincerity and care. Very lucky indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took them 38 chapters to mush. The slow burn is so S L O W.


	39. All's Fair in Love and 'Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang settle down in Montana and find themselves involved in a lucrative moonshine business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another instalment! Thank you for the birthday wishes in the last chapter. I had a swell time within my country's lockdown limits.  
I feel like I should add that we're coming to the end of this story. The plan is that there are around 50 chapters in total. I figured some people would be wondering when this long winded mess would be ending haha so there you's go. There is an epilogue included within those 50 chapters but we're absolutely in the endgame now. As always, thanks for reading and sticking with me throughout. Y'all are the best.   
Enjoy!
> 
> Playlist (https://urlzs.com/NSvkT): “The Wheel” — Woody Jackson, “Michigan” — The Milk Carton Kids, “Triggernometry” — Bill Elm & Woody Jackson

** _4th February, 1898, outside Missoula, Montana_ **

_It’s a new year and roughly seven months since our last encounter with the O’Driscolls. I can’t believe it’s been that long since we heard from Colm or Matthew. Based on news reports, it seems that Colm fled further south to get his gang up and running again. They continue to terrorise locals and rob every Tom, Dick, and Harry they come across. As long as they don’t give us anymore hassle, I couldn’t really give a toss. Arthur seems to feel the same way and is more or less happy that no one has heard from Matthew. Fingers crossed it stays that way._

_Heading north seemed to be a good shout from Dutch and Hosea. Our spot along the Blackfoot River has been kind to us and the dynamic valleys and mountains of Montana still leave me breathless. No one is more in awe of the landscape that Hosea. He even organised a fishing trip for himself, Arthur, and William yesterday, promising to return today. I’m happy to see William spending time with his friends on peaceful activities. He’s still not entirely himself since Utah and constantly veers towards more mundane tasks and chores rather than gunslinging. He’ll still do it considering he’s one of the best guns Dutch has and doesn’t want to leave us short for money. Even still, he finds exceptional comfort in his books and my stories. He’s even started to request that I write pieces for him to perform. It’s been nice revisiting our childhood and with his violin being lost in that fire, it’s a relief that he can still express himself creatively. Not even Bill’s teasing seems to faze him. I’ve also noticed that he seems to be a bit smitten with Miss Tilly. Perhaps something could develop there in the future, who knows?_

_Things are relatively peaceful even with John and Abigail constantly at each others throats. I suppose their brief truce was always going to be short-lived. At first they tried to form some sort of family dynamic as a couple until they found themselves in constant shouting matches. Then Abigail suggested a co-parenting situation as friends and John outright started to deny Jack is even his… _ _again_ _. It’s hard being between them when they are so at odds. I would never deny either of them my ear when they get on each others nerves, but sometimes it’s hard to restrain myself from telling John he’s being a selfish arse or telling Abigail that she’s being a tad overbearing. Then again, I just feel really bad for Jack. He’s lucky that he’s got such a devoted mother and caring uncles and aunties._

_Despite time passing, there seems to be a constant shadow over Dutch’s head. It is sad to see him be so affected by Annabelle’s demise and the near miss we had. Then again if I was in his position, I’d probably be stressed out of my mind too. So many lives rely on him to get us out of this, to find relative peace. I imagine even the most strong-willed would buckle under that pressure. Still, the loss has not squandered his belief in love. A new woman has joined our gang called Molly O’Shea. Born into a wealthy family back in Dublin, Ireland, she came to America in search of “Adventure and Romance”. Sean seems to think she’s a West Brit and he might be on to something there… It didn’t take long for her and Dutch to become lovers despite their age gap… although maybe I can’t judge her too harshly there. She seems like a nice young woman, but there’s definitely an arrogance there that tends to be hard to ignore at times. One minute we can have a pleasant conversation about life back home and then the next she’s refusing to do chores that are beneath her. It’s a tough contrast to swallow but doesn’t make her an irredeemable person. That being said, she is definitely not popular with some of the camp ladies, especially Karen. I don’t think this life suits her, but she seems to be deeply in love with Dutch. I can understand better than anyone how love makes us act like eejits but I have to wonder whether Molly will adapt to the outlaw life or become lost within it._

_Along with his new lover, Dutch has been hard at work trying to make money. He’s been in cahoots with a local moonshine supplier and has us running deliveries and taking out revenue agents in exchange for payment. It also means we get to enjoy moonshine at their secret bars for free which is nice. Either way, it’s been a good means of income for us and money is slowly building since we lost so much of it in Utah. Despite this new arrangement, there’s still an ever-present Pinkerton and lawmen presence around Montana. It has meant that handling banks or bigger jobs aren’t exactly an option for us right now. We’re also far more wary as we travel and give out our names. It seems that our gang is without a doubt one of the most notorious the West has ever seen._

_At this stage, I’m not exactly sure what we can do about it. The only option we have is to do what we’ve always done — trust in Dutch._

* * *

Maebh shut her journal set it down on the wooden crate beside her bedroll. Getting to her feet, she stretched before stepping back out into the camp. The afternoon sun shone high in the air while mountains towered of them from the north and south. She liked this spot. There was something quite peaceful and protective about those mountains. 

“Miss Hennigan,” Susan Grimshaw greeted her with an air of impatience. “Help the other girls out with the washin’, will you? We need every available hand if we’re to have any work done around here.”

“Consider it done, Miss Grimshaw.”

Hardly about the argue with the very person who kept this camp functioning, Maebh headed over to join the other women as they washed clothes in the Blackfoot River. Herr Strauss offered her a friendly ‘good afternoon’ as she went, and she gave him a tip of her hat in exchange. 

Another person who desired her attention was one Mr. MacGuire. “Hey, Hennigan! Lend us your ear for a minute.”

“I’m not sure I have it in me,” she teased. “I heard enough of you complainin’ ’bout _you-know-who_ yesterday.”

He waved her concerns away. “Ah, she wrecks your head too, don’t lie t’me.”

“Not as much as she wrecks yours.”

“Look, I want’a talk t’ye about a job. Dutch has me involved with the moonshine business. Apparently there’s a big sale comin’ up, meant to bring in a lot’a money for us. He wants me to recommend some folks for it and I was thinkin’ ye might be interested. I figured we should help each other out, bein’ rebel stock after all. The pay should be worth it.”

Maebh scratched her chin. “Is that the only reason you picked me?”

“Well... no. We need someone who can handle a gun and help sweet-talk the buyer, and you suit that role pretty well.” 

“Who else are you thinkin’ about recommendin’?”

“Javier, maybe Davey or Mac too.”

“What about Arthur?”

Sean let out a groan. “Ah jaysus… Are you two attached at the hip, or somethin’?”

“No,” she replied with a frown. “I’m just surprised you don’t want someone a bit more experienced involved.”

“We don’t need your fella struttin’ in and tryin’ to take over the job.”

“He doesn’t _strut_.” She rolled her eyes before continuing on. “Look, I’m interested, alright? But Dutch might want Arthur on the job.”

“I’m still not goin’ to mention it either way. But you’re in?”

“For the moment, yeah.”

He grinned and gave her shoulder a clap. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down! We’ll chat more later tonight.”

Maebh watched him walk away in mild amusement before she joined her friends by the shore. “I hear you’s could do with an extra hand for all this washin’?”

“Yes please, Maebh,” Mary-Beth all but groaned, hands submerged in water. “I’m sick of washin’ these grimy shirts.”

“Ain’t we all,” Karen agreed as Maebh took a seat beside them. “We could do with somethin’ more excitin’.”

Tilly pointed to another pile of dirty shirts. “Why don’t you get started on these while I hang up some of the clean ones?”

Maebh readily agreed, picking up a black shirt she recognised as John’s and dunked it in the river. She vigorously scrubbed out the dirt and sweat with a bar of soap. 

After a while of working away on different pieces of clothing, she sat back and wiped her brow. “This is actually a nice change from bein’ shot at.”

Karen’s response was completely deadpan. “I’d rather someone shot at me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Mary-Beth insisted. “Not after all that O’Driscoll business.”

“Maybe I’m not lookin’ for our lives to be at risk, but things are so _borin’_ in camp. I wanna get out, do somethin’ excitin’! You can’t tell me that you don’t miss goin’ a’robbin’.”

“Course I do! Ain’t nothin’ like the feelin’ you get knowin’ you’veswindled a load of wallets from some rich folk.”

“So why ain’t we doin’ it? If I stay in this camp for much longer I’ll end up murderin’ Grimshaw. I want some excitement! Is it too early for a drink?”

“Eh, I think so.”

“Why don’t we all get out for a bit?” Tilly suggested. “Head into Missoula? We’re goin’ stir crazy sittin’ ’round and cleanin’ clothes. Dutch has been so focused on all that ’shine business that we ain’t had a chance to do jobs ourselves.”

Maebh tilted her head. “I’d be up for it but we should get these clothes done first. Otherwise Grimshaw will murder us. We should invite Abigail too — I’m sure she could do with a break from Jack.”

“And _Marston_,” Mary-Beth added with a giggle. “Those two really can’t stand each other.”

Karen rolled her eyes. “Hell, _I_ can barely stand the way they constantly scream at each other nowadays.”

“Then we’ll invite her too,” Tilly agreed. “All the girls can get out for a little bit.”

“Even Queen Victoria over there?”

Tilly cast a hesitant glance at Molly as she stood priming herself in Dutch’s tent. “Excludin’ her then… Let’s just get the clothes washed as quick as we can so we can get outta here.”

“You heard her, ladies,” Maebh concurred, moving on to vigorously clean Bill’s plaid shirt. “Let’s power through this so we get out and have some fun.”

With all of the clothes eventually washed and hung out to dry, Maebh strolled over to Abigail’s tent where the young mother sat with her son, rolling a little ball back and forth to each other, much to the little kid’s amusement. Jack would be three years old in May and he was really starting to become his own little person. He knew everyone by name and would cheerfully greet every single gang member that walked by him. He was obsessed with any ‘what?’, ‘why?’, and ‘where?’ question he could get out, even until the other person ran out of answers. As well as that, he had an incredible imagination and loved to play make-believe on a daily basis. Literally anything Copper does gets a laugh from him which was incredibly wholesome to see.

The little boy raised his head as he heard her approaching. “Auntie May!”

“Hey, Jack,” Maebh greeted him enthusiastically in return. “Are you havin’ fun with Momma?”

“Yeah! I love ball.”

“Me too, kid.” She ruffled his hair lightly and looked to his mother. “Are you havin’ fun too?”

“I ain’t exactly complainin’ about things bein’ peaceful for once,” she replied with a small smile before she frowned. “I just wish John would… well, y’know.”

Maebh nodded slowly, careful to choose her words around Jack. “Yeah, I know. He’s the one missin’ out. Where is he anyway?”

“Off on some task for those moonshiners. He cares more about ’shine than his other responsibilities."

“At least he’s got lots of fun aunties and uncles, isn’t that right Jack? You have fun aunties and uncles?”

The kid’s enthusiasm over such a weird, mishmash family was adorable. “Uh huh! Where is Uncle Will?”

“He’s out fishing with Uncle Hosea and Uncle Arthur.”

He gasped. “_Fiss?”_

“Yeah! Do you like fish?”

“I love fiss!”

“Well they might bring lots and lots of fish back with them!”

“Whoa!” He looked at Abigail and waved his arms in excitement. “Momma, fiss!”

She feigned a look of wonder and clapped her hands. “Maybe we’ll get to see some big fish, huh?”

Jack rambled on in his own language, rolling the ball around on the ground with his little hands. Maebh eyed her friend as she looked down at him fondly. “Me and the girls are organisin’ a trip into town to do some robbin’. We thought you’d like to get out for a bit as well?”

“Oh, I’d love a break. But John ain’t ’round and I don’t know who could watch him.”

“We can wait until those fishin’ boys are back and then ask William and Arthur. They’d be up for it and Jack likes them well enough. Take a break, Abby. You deserve it. I’m sure you could do with a change of scenery like the rest of us.”

“Well…” She eyed her son for a moment before nodding. “Sure, sounds good.”

It was settled — the women in camp would finally get a day out for once, and _together_ too. Maebh felt like she had won the lottery. 

Not long after their conversation, the men returned from their fishing trip. They seemed in fine form, retelling tales of wrestling with monster northern pike and feasting on sockeye salmon they caught in the aptly named Salmon Lake. Arthur greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and was happy enough to watch Jack when she asked. William was more enthusiastic, already rushing to see what imaginary game Jack wished to play. Upon hearing of their plans, Hosea simply requested that they be back in time for dinner, but they were more than willing to do as he asked. With their nursemaids organised, Maebh, Abigail, Tilly, Karen, and Mary-Beth mounted their horses and rode into Missoula.

It was a much needed change of scenery for them and Maebh couldn’t recall the last time they all went pickpocketing together. They were all experts at what they did — even young Mary-Beth. Anytime someone doubted her abilities, Arthur was the first one to declare that she’s probably robbed more men than he has. She may have been humble, but he wasn’t far off. They spent the rest of the afternoon either sneaking or sweet-talking their way into wealthy men’s pockets. They would sometimes work in twos or watch one of them from afar as they successfully stole wallets right from unsuspecting targets’ coats. It was almost therapeutic for Maebh. This felt a lot more reminiscent to her earlier days in the gang when they weren’t worrying about O’Driscolls or Pinkertons. Robbing banks had its perks but she was surprised by how much she enjoyed her time with the women. Perhaps the good company was one of the main reasons why she had fun. They even went for a drink together after bleeding the city folks dry. It was nice to see her friends so carefree after all that happened last year.

“This is the most fun I’ve had in a while,” Tilly said suddenly after setting down her bottle. “We should start doin’ this again now that we’re in a more stable spot.”

Abigail nodded. “I agree. I could do with a bit of time away from Jackie every now and then.”

“Maybe it’ll encourage Marston to pull his weight a little bit,” Karen noted bitterly. “Although I ain’t exactly sure that’s possible.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried my best but it don’t seem to matter.”

“Why did he come back then if he didn’t intend on steppin’ up?” Tilly asked.

“But that’s the thing,” Abigail began. “He told me that he would try, not to mention that he would explain why he ran off for a year but he’s yet to do either. We were gettin’ on well for a little while but now it seems we can say anythin’ without the other gettin’ mad.”

Karen turned to Maebh. “Ain’t you spoken to him?”

She blinked in confusion. “Of course I have, but not everythin’ I say to him is bible. I know he cares about both’a you but he probably just needs a bit of time to eh, _mature_, or somethin’? Don’t give up on him just yet.”

“If only I could,” Abigail murmured sadly. “But I don’t have it in me. I just wish he would want us as a family. I guess I can’t make him do that and I can’t make myself not care for him either. Annabelle was really good to me the night he came back. She said somethin’ similar, somethin’ about him needin’ more time. I miss her.”

There was a shift in the atmosphere as everyone grew somber.

“Me too,” Maebh added. “And Bessie. They were good people who deserved better than what they got.”

“I’m upset I never got to meet Bessie,” Mary-Beth admitted as Tilly nodded in agreement. “She sounded like a great woman.” 

“She really helped me and William to settle in when we first joined the gang. She was nice but didn’t take any shit. You could say she was certainly the perfect match for Hosea anyway. It felt like we lost the camp mother when we lost her. She told me to get out of this life long ago but even Hosea couldn’t manage that.”

“Hosea tried to leave the gang?”

“Yeah, with Bessie. They tried but Hosea couldn’t stay away. She didn’t fight him though. She just wanted to go wherever he was and she knew what kinda life he would live. There was no gettin’ outta it for him, but wherever he went, she went. She wasn’t about to argue.”

“That’s some fierce loyalty,” Karen noted. “And love.”

“Definitely a whole lotta love. I know there’s no such thing as perfect love or the perfect couple, but I really think they were the closest there is.”

“Are you really gonna downplay you and Arthur like that?” Mary-Beth teased her. “You’re so lucky that you found a man like him.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her lover. Such a soft soul hidden within the sternest of men. A good man who struggled to see himself as he really was, as he _could_ be. “Ah, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure as hell lucky to have Arthur. I love him dearly, you all know that.”

“Could you ever see yourself and Arthur doin’ somethin’ like that?” Abigail asked her curiously. “Leavin’ like Hosea and Bessie tried to? Tryin’ out a more ordinary life?”

She slowly shook her head, trying to ignore the slight twist in her gut at the thought. “I think we all know that Arthur isn’t goin’ anywhere. Jesus, I don’t really think any of us are. The gang is our family and we all know how much Dutch values loyalty.”

Maebh could almost see the clogs turning in Abigail’s head. She was deep in thought, chin perched in the palm of her hand. She wondered what could possibly be going on in her mind. Then again, she sometimes forgot that Abigail had not just herself to worry about, but Jack too. While his family cared for him and looked over him, this wasn’t the ideal set up for a young child to find themselves in. Although what exactly were her options? There certainly weren’t many of them.

“I’m pretty sure none of us are goin’ anywhere,” Karen said casually as she sipped on her beer. “Who knows? Maybe Dutch will fulfil his promises of buyin’ some land for us to live in his ‘lawless realm’.”

Tilly was quite insistent in her beliefs, unamused by Karen’s teasing. “We’ve just gotta stick together and have faith in Dutch. He ain’t perfect but he’s the best we’ve got and he cares about us. At least he’s tryin’ to find somewhere for us to live in peace. I ain’t sure how easy that’s gonna be, but I’m willin’ to try.”

“You’re right,” Maebh said surely, trying to dispel the cloud of uncertainty hovering over the table. “We’ve escaped some serious situations with him so there’s no reason why we can’t escape this one either.”

Abigail was in agreement, as was Mary-Beth. Karen was instead focused on the concept of another round of drinks. Maebh was glad to be distracted by her friends. It had been too long since the lot of them got away from camp to enjoy a simple ‘girls night’. While she cared for her males friends at camp dearly, sometimes outings like these were necessary. Nowadays, she felt like she had to cling to any sort of event or feeling that brought her hope and joy. She wished for future days that would bring nothing less.

* * *

Arthur had been playing with Jack when the women returned from their excursion. He watched as Maebh hitched Dullahan and laughed happily with her friends. The sight brought a smile to his face, as did Jack running into his momma’s arms. 

Maebh greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and he had to physically force himself not to capture her lips in his in front of the others. The thought of their ogling was enough of a deterrent. Hell, he could barely manage to hug her in front of everyone else. An arm wrapped around her shoulders beside the campfire was the most he could do. It was another story altogether they were alone in a hotel or his tent. It wasn’t news to her that he hadn’t been intimate with a women since Eliza’s unplanned pregnancy. To say he was nervous before sleeping with Maebh was an understatement. He worried about making it good for her, lasting long enough, and whether he would look, well, _appealing _to the eye. The shame that came with some of his other concerns hung guiltily over his head. It was hard to forget that before him she had been intimate with_ John goddamn Marston_. He tried very hard not to think about John’s lips touching her soft skin, or his hands exploring her body. Those experiences didn’t devalue her in any regard — much like his past relationships didn’t affect her opinion of him — but he couldn’t help but worry that maybe Marston was a more enjoyable experience for her. He was younger, good looking, and made Arthur feel his usual self-conscious paranoia rearing its ugly head. The more he thought back on his fears, the more he felt like cringing. He should have never doubted her want for him because she certainly did a good job of showing that she was eager when he finally got his hands on her. Hearing her hushed ‘I love you’s’ as he held her close and was enveloped in her warmth banished every single pointless doubt in his dumb brain. What the hell else mattered when she loved him and he loved her? Since then, he no longer feared having her in his arms. If anything he was almost obsessed with it. It had been many years since he felt this happy, this settled, this lucky. Perhaps he really did deserve this amount of love from another.

“Did you have fun?” he asked her, laying a swift kiss on her forehead.

“Yeah, we had the craic,” she replied enthusiastically. “I think we needed a bit of time away from camp to catch up properly.”

“I can understand that. I felt the same way on my fishin’ trip with the fellers.”

“I’m not surprised. Sorry we dumped Jack on you as soon as you got back, by the way. You’re probably wrecked at this stage.”

He shook his head, looking at the kid fondly as he rambled on to his mother about all the fun he gotten up to with his uncles. “Naw, he’s a good kid. I don’t mind watchin’ him. At least he’s got some good uncles even if he ain’t got a good daddy.”

Maebh hummed, preferring not to comment on John’s inability to be a man. It was quite clear to him that she had been softer on Marston since Utah, though he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. He probably would’ve been the same if he didn’t have to listen to his constant complaining. It was hard to feel sympathy for him when he continued to deny his part in Jack’s existence.

He barely had a chance to let his less-than-pleasant thoughts about Marston claim his mind before Maebh was reaching out to hesitantly brush her fingers against his hand. “I missed you, y’know.”

He eyed her with a smile, letting her slip her hand into his large palm. “Today?”

“Yeah, and while you were off fishin’ too. It’s pretty nice to have you back here with me. Sleepin’ on my own is kinda crap.”

“Well I don’t want you feelin’ lonesome. I missed you too.”

“So… do you want’a show me just _how much_ you missed me?”

The look she gave him nearly made him cross-eyed. The invitation was there — as clear as day — and good God did he long to take it. He was a simple man. He could be exceedingly shy in physical situations, but Lord did he long to be intimate with Maebh as frequently as possible. He actually felt like a love sick young man again when he was with her.

“Trust me, it’s temptin’, sweetheart, but we should wait until after we eat.”

She blinked at him. “Since when do you prefer food over sex?”

He tried not to laugh, squeezing his lips tightly together. “Oh trust me, I don’t. Hosea has got a little somethin’ planned for tonight though and he wants everyone involved.”

The sigh of impatience that she let out was entertaining. “Do we not even have time for a quick round?”

“Oh no,” he drawled with a shake of his head and took a step closer to her. He lowered his voice to the exact level that always excited her. “I’d rather take my time with you tonight.”

“You best make it up to me afterwards then.”

“I’m takin’ that as a challenge, I hope you know that.”

“Are you goin’ t’have me walkin’ with a limp again, Mr. Morgan?”

He had to suppress the rumble in his chest. “Maybe, Miss Hennigan, if you ask me nicely.”

Before she could reply with something equally suggestive, William appeared in his periphery with his arms folded across his broad chest. “Can you’s two stop starin’ at each other like you’s are about to go feral? Hosea wants us to gather ’round, c’mon!”

Maebh let out a huff that only an annoying brother could cause. “Will you feck _off!”_

William waved her off playfully, shooing them towards the campfire where Hosea was addressing the others. “Ah, your ma!”

“That’s _your_ ma too, you twat.”

“Shh, Hosea is talkin’.”

Arthur laughed to himself and threw his arm around her shoulders. As Hosea began to speak, she melted into his embrace.

“… As you all know,” the older man was saying, standing atop a wooden crate to see the whole gang. “I returned from a fishin’ trip with Arthur and William earlier today. We certainly had a time, catching big ol’ fish like some of you have never seen. Along with that, we also caught some beautiful sockeye that might very well have been the best I’ve tasted in a long time. And y’know what? We thought it was unfair to enjoy all that lovely salmon for ourselves without givin’ you all a taste! So, I brought back a whole load of them for us to enjoy tonight. A banquet, if you will!”

The whole gang began to cheer in delight, shouting out words of appreciation Hosea’s way as he moved to his tent to fetch a sack.

“No need to thank me,” he hushed them, opening the top of the bag to peer inside. “It’s been too long since we had a proper feast ’round…” He paused, staring into the bag in shock. “… here.”

Arthur frowned and released Maebh to join him. “What’s the problem?”

Hosea looked grim and opened the bag for him to see. Inside was a bunch of half-eaten,raw sockeye, bones and heads strewn around the sack like a group of raccoons had gotten their grabby little hands on them.

Arthur sighed and then spoke. “So… do you think it was Marston?”

Hosea rolled his eyes. “Very goddamn funny.”

“What’s the hold up, Hosea?” John called out, already half cut.

“Yeah,” Javier agreed with less insistence. “Are we having ourselves a feast or what?”

Hosea’s disappointed gaze trailed across camp to Arthur’s tent not too far away. Copper lay on the ground, munching and chewing on a vibrant piece of red meat. 

Arthur could feel the older man’s eyes on him before they exchanged a look. “Mystery solved I guess…”

Dutch seemed to catch on before everyone else. “Are you tellin’ me that Copper got to the fish before we could?”

Cries of dismay and frustration arose from the crowd, some of them seeing the humour in it despite the loss. Arthur approached the hound, squatting down to get a good look at him. Copper merely raised his head and started to wag his tail hesitantly, the hair around his eyes greyed with age, but his inner puppy never really leaving.

“Were you bein’ nosy in Hosea’s tent again, pal?” he asked.

Copper merely huffed in response, drooling tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“You never did really have control over that dog, did you, Arthur?” Hosea teased him, already over the whole event.

Dutch called out to the camp chef with a sigh. “Mr. Pearson, we’re gonna need you to work your magic again!”

More groans came from the group before Pearson gave them the middle finger in response. Arthur merely looked at his pet with a fond smile, trying his best to see the humour in it. It was only a bag of fish after all and Copper was still a puppy at heart. He loved him dearly and they had been through so much that he could overlook this sort of behaviour every once in a while.

Arthur was glad he took that approach, especially when Copper became far more lethargic in the days that followed. He was an old boy, so he wondered whether he should have been more prepared to see him tired and sluggish. It was one evening when Maebh noticed the dog’s laboured breathing that the sudden realisation dawned on him. He didn’t know how or why, but he just knew that his pet didn’t have much time left. The veterinarian in Missoula seemed to think it was his heart struggling to beat for whatever reason. Age, wear and tear… the usual. He was an old, old, dog at this rate but had been so incredibly joyful and energetic until suddenly he just _wasn’t_. The knowledge that he didn’t shout at Copper over the salmon was a constant comfort, as was letting the hound rest in his lap day-in and day-out. He ran his hands through his short fur, committing the feeling to memory as best as he could. It was another sense of repose he had when in a matter of days, Copper would shut his eyes to fall asleep and never open them again. Arthur’s consolation came with knowing that he wasn’t alone when he went, curled up in his owner’s lap and surrounded by those who thought he was the best boy.

That morning, he buried his friend near the river with Maebh, Dutch, and Hosea by his side, the small plot adorned with a wooden plank. Into the wood, he carved Copper’s name and replanted some flowers in the fresh soil below. After all their years together, it was the least he could do.

* * *

A week after Copper’s passing, Maebh found herself strolling into a cabin hidden within the thick forests north east of Missoula. She counted the money aloud in her hand, passing on payment to Sean, Javier, and Davey. They were returning from selling on quite a lot of moonshine on behalf of the people that owned the place, making hefty money for themselves in the process. They handled getting the product to the meeting place — dealing with any revenue agents along the way — and made sure the sale went down without any issues. Surprisingly, everything had gone swimmingly.

“Jaysus,” Sean sighed, counting the bills. “This is lovely lookin’.”

“I could get used to this moonshine business,” Javier replied, seemingly impressed. “_Very_ used to it.”

Maebh nodded as they headed down the stairs in the cabin, making their way to the massive bar hidden in the basement. The doorman gave them a nod as they went. “’Shine pays exceptionally well and the people who make it always make sure we get our due. We’ve really gotten our money’s worth workin’ for them.”

“And drinkin’ in their bar for free always helps,” Davey added just as they stepped through the double doors and into the bustling bar. He gazed around with fond approval. “Yeah, this definitely works.”

Maebh looked at the hopping band in wonder, the floor busy with inebriated patrons dancing happily with their equally drunk companions. The musicians worked their magic in getting all of the customers moving and enjoying the atmosphere. The place was decorated with a vast array of stuffed animals and scenic photographs of the Montana rivers, valleys, and mountains that amazed their viewers. People were crowded around the tables, drinking and chatting animatedly. They didn’t have a care in the world.

“I can’t get enough of this place,” Javier admitted, eying a nearby group of ladies. “Or the women.”

“Do you ever stop?” Maebh asked him in jest.

He gave her a playful nudge with his elbow. “Ah, go back to your husband and leave us bachelors to our conquests.”

They quickly hurried to where Dutch and Arthur sat at a nearby table. The former relaxed with a fat cigar between his fingers while the latter sipped on a hefty glass of moonshine. 

As they noticed their posse’s arrival, Dutch welcomed them with a smile. “Well look who it is! A bunch’a ’shine dealers back from a sale. How did y’all get on?”

“It all went off without a hitch,” Sean replied in glee and pointed at Arthur. “See? _He_ doesn’t need to come _all_ the time.”

In response, Arthur rolled his eyes. “Thank God Miss Hennigan was there to make sure you didn’t end up with a hole in your big, red head.”

“Have I ever told you you’re a funny shit, Arthur Morgan?”

“A few times I think. Why don’t you tell me again while I pretend to listen.”

Trying very hard to ignore their squabbling, Maebh handed Dutch half of the pay out. “The camp’s share, as requested.”

“Thank you kindly, my dear. Here.” He slid a fresh drink towards her. “Have this. You boys head to the bar and then come join us so we can celebrate a job well done.”

Happy to follow those orders, Sean, Davey, and Javier headed to fetch their drinks. Once they were gone, Arthur smiled up at her and then patted his thigh. Maebh assumed that he must already have a few drinks on him but she wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to sit in his lap. The thought became almost instantaneously lewd, but she banished the imagery away given that Dutch was _right there_.

She sat herself carefully on his leg and felt his arm slip protectively around her waist. As she slung hers around his shoulders, he smiled up at her. “You got on alright?”

“Of course. As you said, I made sure they didn’t get shot.”

“I knew you, Javier, and Davey would manage to keep the kid in line.”

“It’s the exact reason why I asked him to pick people to go on the job,” Dutch said. “I knew he’d pick you. The Irish lookin’ out for the Irish, and all that. He’s fairly predictable.”

Maebh pointed at him as she took her first sip of moonshine for the evening. “That’s basically the reason why he had me involved. There was some other stuff sure, but my nationality definitely had somethin’ to do with it.”

“Well I was comfortable sendin’ them off with you. Lord knows you’d keep them in line.”

The group spent a couple of hours in the bar, drinking, laughing, and celebrating their success with a much deserved break. A few of them eventually split off, Javier attending to a few women who seemed enamoured with his honeyed words, Davey and Sean singing along to the music being played, and the original trio drinking and smoking happily.

“Y’know,” Dutch began with a puff on a fresh cigar. “I’ve got a good feelin’ about all of this, Arthur. A mighty good feelin’.”

Arthur played along. “Is that so?”

“O’course, son.” He paused and looked between the pair of them, a mischievous glint in his eye. “We have earned our fair share of money workin’ with these moonshiners. We’ve finally improved our funds since we lost half of our cash back in the fire. Now there’s nothin’ stoppin’ us from buyin’ a plot of land and settlin’ somewhere in the wilderness. We could be farmers, ranchers, handle our own livelihoods without Pinkertons breathin’ down our necks. Oh, we’re close. I can practically smell it — freedom, safety, peace; everythin’ we’ve been workin’ towards. Mark my words, you two, our goal is finally within our reach. Ain’t nothin’ gonna stop us now.”

As he raised his glass to offer a positive cheers, the double doors burst open on the other side of the bar. In rushed in a number of lawmen, armed to the teeth and screaming for everyone to get on the ground.

Within seconds, the bar was thrown into absolute chaos. Tables flipped and bullets flew through the air from both drunkards and lawmen. Maebh felt herself being flung to the ground, Arthur’s arms wrapped around her as he shielded her behind the table. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she assured him, looking him over for any obvious injuries. “They’ve got some God awful timin’!”

Dutch lay down next to them and she managed to hear him state over the noise. “Okay, time to go!”

They crawled across the floor, following Dutch’s lead as they skimmed passed customers who ran around wildly looking for either an escape or cover. Others took the lawmen head-on, their moonshine making them incredibly brave and probably a bit stupid. All out brawls had started in the rabble. Above the noise, she heard lawmen calling out for Dutch Van der Linde to give himself up. As they continued on their escape, she caught sight of Javier huddled behind the bar, cattleman in hand as he fired off some shots at their pursuers.

Dutch called out to him over the sound of smashing glass and drunken yelling. “Javier! Get those two idiots and let’s get back to camp, now!”

Without questioning his instructions, Maebh caught sight of him rushing to Sean and Davey, hauling them towards the back door they were currently clambering through. As the cold night air hit her head on, she breathed in deep. They sprinted through the thick trees and were soon hoisting themselves on to their skittish mounts.

Dutch called out the orders as quickly as possible. “Everyone, split up and head back to camp! Arthur, stay with Maebh, Sean with Davey, Javier with me. C’mon!”

Without delay, the pairs set off in different directions, disappearing in the dark of night. As quickly as it had affected her, the moonshine wore off as the tense atmosphere grew in its stead. They made their escape and Maebh managed to catch Arthur’s concerned gaze along the way. He said nothing but there seemed to be an element of sad understanding shared between them in that moment.

Lawmen knew where they were — they would have to move again.


End file.
